


Who Painted the Moon Black

by throughthedark



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Crossover, Forced Prostitution, Friendship, Hunger Games, I promise, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OT5 Friendship, Romance, Violence, all is well, for everyone who sends me worried message halfway through this, no one from 1d dies, there is a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughthedark/pseuds/throughthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em> Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into עברית available: [Who Painted the Moon Black (Hebrew Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270530) by [Jon_Collette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jon_Collette/pseuds/Jon_Collette)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Who Painted the Moon Black 谁漆黑了月](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245893) by [swansecrets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swansecrets/pseuds/swansecrets)



> Disclaimer: Major spoilers for all three Hunger Games novels. So if you haven't read them...go read them! They're really good!

 

When Harry first steps out of the Justice Building, Louis is seated in his usual place amongst District 6's limited pool of victors from previous years. Louis despises being so close to the stage. He does not want to acknowledge a new victor. He does not want to watch this child attempt to apologize to their district for the fact that he is alive while their tributes are dead. Most of all, he does not want to recognize that this boy's pulse and smile and trembling hands all represent his own failure as a mentor. Because Louis' tributes are dead.

Louis spares the boy a brief glance. He is dressed in a crisp white button up under a black jacket. His hair is perfectly styled to the point where his seemingly loose curls don't even move in the strong breeze.

District 6's mayor makes his typically insincere speech congratulating the boy on his victory. “Congratulations Harry Styles. You have surely made your district, as well as the whole of Panem, proud, and we in District 6 are honoured to host you here tonight.”

With his hands clasped tightly behind his back Harry gives a clearly scripted response without once looking up from his feet. It is nothing Louis hasn't already seen on the television as he watched the Victory Tour pass from district to district.

The personal comments to the families of the dead tributes are always so much more difficult to listen to. As Louis thinks back to his own Victory Tour, he knows that they are also excruciatingly difficult to say.

Harry's face is stricken as he finally looks up from his boots. Louis suspects that under the cleverly applied makeup he is actually sickly pale. “Keri was a very kind, brave, smart, and beautiful girl.” Harry's voice is deep and slow, but also unsteady. He is looking at Keri's parents as though he is begging for a forgiveness that he knows he will never receive. “I am so sorry that she's gone. I wish it could have been different...I didn't even know-”

He cuts himself off, clearing his throat and seeming to pull himself back together. Louis knows exactly what he was going to say. He had not known what Keri was going to do. Neither had Louis. Stupid girl. He should have trained her better.

“And Marlon...he was such a good person. And he was so nice to everyone he spoke to. Even during training he just had this way of...making everyone feel better. He reassured us. I'm sorry he's gone. He was a-a- really beautiful human being.” Louis hadn't known that about Marlon. No one had ever told him that he had been a reassuring presence during training. The boy had been his tribute, his responsibility, and he hadn't really known a thing about him.

Louis applauds the end of the ceremony with numb hands. Harry looks seconds away from crying. _This is the fifth district you've visited on this tour kid._ Louis thinks spitefully. _This shouldn't still hurt you._

That's a lie of course. It always hurts. Every reaping and every speech and every death and every victor. There is no part of it that every stops hurting.

The dinner that follows is full of food that their district can barely afford to supply. It is wasted on Louis, as his stomach is too unsettled to eat. A little conversation with his fellow District 6 mentors might have been nice, might have calmed him down, but they are all high on morphling. He wishes he could be as well. Surrendering his health and sanity to a mind-numbing drug seems like a pretty stellar plan on most days. With four younger sisters to stick around for however, it has never truly been an option. He couldn't deal with their disappointment if he let them down like that.

“Out of the way loonies,” Johanna squishes herself next to him at the table. Louis can barely bring himself to look her in the eye. He is terrified that the pity in his expression will show. The rumours about her family had reached his district several weeks ago. He couldn't even begin to fathom her grief.

“Really Lou?” She laughs harshly. “Can't even look at me? Trust me, you can't possibly hate me as much as I hate myself.”

“I don't hate you-”

“They're dead because of me,” she snaps. “I refused to sell my body to the Capitol and now my family is dead.”

“I still don't hate you.”

“Whatever.” Her eyes are welling up and she turns away slightly to try to hide it. “I don't care what you think. I just need you to go and sit with Harry. He needs company or he gets upset. But I just can't be there right now. I just can't.”

He doesn't want to talk to Harry. Interacting with new victors is never anything but painful. He stands up anyway. Clearly he has no self preservation instincts. He used them all up in a game he won three years ago.

“Uh hi,” he awkwardly clears his throat and mumbles a greeting as he approached Harry's seat.

Harry jumps about a foot in the air and whips around as though he is expecting to be attacked. In all actuality that is probably exactly what he is expecting. Hunger Games' paranoia is hard to let go of.

“I'm Louis,” he continues. Harry is staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. “I'm, uh, from the 69th Hunger Games. You might recognize me-”

“I'm so sorry about Keri and Marlon,” Harry starts frantically. “You were their mentor right? They were very nice people and I never meant for-”

“Don't apologize,” he says shortly. “Stop apologizing. You're never going to get the answer you're looking for.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I mean-”

“Especially don't apologize to me,” he says, feeling suddenly exhausted and empty. “You don't want my forgiveness. I'm no better than you.”

Harry looks a bit lost as to what to say next.

“So you're about halfway through the tour now,” Louis says, grasping for a conversation topic. “You excited to be back home?”

Harry shrugs. “I guess. It's kind of hard to be around my family though. I don't think they really know how to talk to me any more.”

Louis does not want to talk about the kid's family. He wants a nice, safe, pleasant topic to converse on before making his escape. “Have you tried the profiteroles? I've heard they're quite good.”

Harry grabs one and tentatively takes a bite. He chews very slowly. Louis suspects Harry's stomach is just as queasy and unsettled as his own. “They are good.”

“Yes, all the food here is alright. Despite the fact that we all practice rampant cannibalism here in District 6.” Oh God. Bad Joke. Abort mission. Make a hasty retreat. No need to traumatize the kid any more then he likely already was.

Harry laughs. “Of course. I almost forgot about the rampant cannibalism.”

A dozen or so years ago, Titus, a tribute from District 6, had gone savage in the arena and had started eating the insides of the tributes he conquered. It had provided their district with a less then favourable reputation. Louis likes to make inappropriate jokes about it at the worst moments. Luckily Harry seems to have taken it fine. “Sorry to disappoint, but we don't actually eat each other here. Titus was a bit of an unfortunate case.”

“So you're saying you're not cannibals?” Harry smiles. “I feel like my whole life has been a lie!”

The kid is still smiling slightly. Louis feels good. He feels successful. On most days his life feels like it is spinning widely out of control, but today he made an unhappy sixteen year old smile.

Harry's escort is beckoning for Johanna, and starts making her way towards Harry. “Looks like your train awaits,” Louis points.

“Oh. Right,” Harry looks disappointed, like just for a moment he had forgotten what his life was, and he was now suddenly being dragged back to reality.

“You'll be fine,” Louis says reassuringly. He isn't sure why but he has a sudden need to be there for him. Even in the smallest way possible. “You'll get through this. If you ever need to talk, Johanna has my number.”

“I can call you?” Harry's eyes widen in shock.

Louis shrugs. “My fancy victors house has a phone, might as well use it.”

“Okay,” Harry says shyly. “Bye Louis.”

“Bye Harry.”

That was the first time Louis Tomlinson met Harry Styles.

 

 

_It's Louis' third time mentoring tributes. It won't be his last. As the only remotely lucid District 6 victor he is guaranteed to mentor every year until he too succumbs to morphling’s temptation._

_Their names are Keri and Marlon. They are fifteen and seventeen respectively, and they are looking at him with wet, terrified eyes as though he has all the answers. He wants to tell them that he knows nothing. That he is a nineteen year old with no real understanding of how he won, let alone an understanding of how to help others win._

_That would be counter-productive though. Best to instill at least a margin of confidence in his tributes. “Right. So first things first, lets watch the other districts' reapings. Get an idea of who our competition is.”_

_The tributes from the career districts are predictably intimidating. “The upside is, although they may look big, they are not always very smart,” he declares optimistically. (They are usually smart, but not ALWAYS he justifies to himself). In contrast, the tributes from District 11 and twelve are wafer thin with sunken eyes. No threat there._

_The only tribute who really stands out as abnormal is the boy from District 7. He has wide green eyes and curly brown hair; the picture of teenage innocence. “He's cute,” Keri says with a tiny giggle. Marlon smiles at her._

_“He can probably sever your head with an axe,” Louis responds bluntly. “Don't underestimate any District 7 tribute. That attitude is why Johanna Mason won last year.” He's glad he has not officially met Johanna yet. She had personally killed both of his tributes last year. “If you see that boy in the arena, I don't want you to be thinking 'he's cute.' I want you to kill him.”_

_“Okay.” Keri looks like she's going to be sick. Marlon looks miserable. Louis doesn't regret his words. They might be sick and miserable, but at least they understand what they are up against._

 

 

District 6' export trade is transportation. They have huge factories and massive amounts of brain and man power that go into designing and building the complex trains and hovercrafts used in the games.

Louis doesn't worry about either of those things. Since he is a victor he does not have to work, and can therefore occupy his time with whatever he pleases. Today, he chooses to focus on the little buggies and scooters that their district builds for the rich capitol citizens to zoom around on and do whatever it is rich capitol people do with their time.

He brings his younger sisters to the construction site once they're out of school for the day. Paying off workers with food so that he can entertain his sisters just so happens to be Louis' specialty. He tries to make every day as perfect as possible for them.

Lottie and Fizzy are both of reaping age. Louis knows that if they are reaped it will be no one's fault but his own. He will have done something wrong and unintentionally earned the capitol's wrath, or they will be reaped simply for being the siblings of a previous victor. Nothing is more entertaining than watching a victor mentor their family.

Phoebe and Daisy giggle hysterically as they race their scooters around the site. Lottie and Fizzy are carefully maneuvering a buggy around, looking extremely pleased with themselves. _Please love me_. Louis' mind screams at them. _Please love me, even after everything I have done, even after everything I will do._

“That was fun Lou,” Lottie says happily as they head home. “Thanks for bringing us.”

“Yeah, it was so much fun!” Phoebe says sincerely.

“No problem,” he answers jubilantly. “Anything you guys ever want to do. I'll make it happen. All you have to do is ask.”

That night they watch Harry's victor speech in District 5. He talks about how lovely District 5's victors were and how sad he is that they are gone. He doesn't apologize. Louis is reluctantly proud.

 

 

_Finnick is hiding from his tributes when Louis finds him._

_“Your tributes both got tens,” he informs him. The training scores had just gone up. Keri and Marlon had gotten fives. Louis couldn't deal with reassuring them about their mediocre scores. So he went to find Finnick instead._

_Finnick barely acknowledges him. Admittedly, the fact that his career tributes got high scores is hardly shocking news. “You think one of yours is going to win?” Louis asks._

_“Probably,” Finnick shrugs. “Or that beast of a girl from one.”_

_“Saw your two both got fives. Harry got a nine.” Oh great, Johanna had joined the party._

_“Maybe mine are hiding their talents,” Louis responds. “I'm sure you know a little something about that strategy.”_

_“Yeah, sure,” Johanna snorts. “I'll believe that when I see it,” she pauses, bouncing on the balls of her feat uneasily. “Snow asked me something today. Wants me to sleep with some patrons for him or some shit. Can you believe that?”_

_Finnick and Louis both stiffen, because they absolutely do not talk about this subject. They do not talk about the five bookings Finnick had already had that day, or the one that Louis had the next morning. They simply turn up, try not to cry too noticeably, and then spend the next couple hours scrubbing their skin raw in the shower._

_“I mean why would he even bother asking me that?” Johanna continues in disbelief. “Surely no one ever says yes?”_

_Louis remains silent. Finnick chuckles bitterly._

_“You two?” she is shocked. Louis feels unexpectedly satisfied at her horrified expression._

_“Yeah, sometimes,” Louis says. “Although Finnick is quite a bit more popular than I am.”_

_“Who doesn't want to be popular?” Finnick says with an eerily empty smile._

_“And the reason people say yes, is so that Snow doesn't kill everyone they've ever loved,” Louis finishes serenely._

_Johanna abruptly stands up and walks away. Louis can hear her vomit from the hallway._

 

 

Harry calls him for the first time right after the tour's stop in District 4.

“Hello, this is Harry. Finnick says hi,” Harry rushes out in one breath the moment Louis answers the phone.

“Hi Harry. Tell Finnick hello back from me.”

“I-I can't,” Harry sounds abruptly miserable. “I'm on the train now. We're leaving District 4.”

Louis recognizes the mood swing. He can relate because in the rare instances where he chooses to not be completely numb to the world he swings from euphorically happy to devastated without any warning. “It's fine. I can call him and say hi whenever.”

“Oh, okay. That's good.”

“Did you need to talk about anything?”

“No, I just-” Harry flounders helplessly.

“Okay,” Louis nods to himself. He can handle this.

He tells Harry about how well Lottie is doing in school, recounts a funny thing Fizzy did the other day, describes in detail Phoebe and Daisy's fight over the swing out back. He talks about how he had tried to go for a run a few days ago and almost passed out from how unfit he was. He complains about how he thinks his mother has a suitor. Every mundane, moderately happy, painfully everyday thing he can think of gets ranted about.

Louis can hear Harry's frantic breathing slowly even out as he continues to speak.

Finally Louis goes silent. “People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.” They are completely silent for several minutes.

“I have an older sister,” Harry murmurs into the silence like a secret. “She's so smart. She likes to tell me random stuff that I never learned. And sometimes she does girly stuff to my hair for fun.”

“Then you finish this tour and you go home and have your brilliant sister braid flowers into your hair,” Louis smiles at the image. “And make sure she takes a picture of the end result. I'm going to want to see that.”

“I'd like flowers in my hair I think,” Harry says sleepily. “It sounds happy.”

 

 

_The arena is a desert. When the gong goes Louis sees his tributes confronted with an empty landscape. There are a few craggy boulders to hide behind, but tree cover doesn't begin for miles._

_The death toll during the first few hours is enormous, much larger than in most seasons. The fast, small tributes who usually escape the bloodbath in the Cornucopia to hide in the trees are immediately picked off, unable to find anywhere to hide in the barren desert land. Marlon is impaled by a spear by the fifteen minute mark._

_Keri is faster though. She gets out of spear and knife throwing range, and never stops running. Despite the fact that she has no hope of making it to tree cover for hours, she does not give up. Smart girl. She knows that as impossible as making it out of the dry sand might seem, staying in the flat desert would mean certain death._

_Harry Styles from District 7 is a bit of a surprise. He got a nine in his training session, which indicates that he's a threat. However, he falls over several times as he scrambles for an axe in the Cornucopia, tripping over nothing but his own feet. The careers don't even attempt to kill him. The girl from District 2 actually waves to him and calls out, “See you later Harry,” as he runs off into the distance awkwardly lugging an axe. Clearly he had made some sort of a favourable impression on the other tributes during training._

_“He's a charmer,” Johanna says from beside him. It's her first year mentoring, which means she's annoyingly keen to talk about the games. She's in the clueless, beginners mindset where you still believe that you can save both your tributes. “You should have seen it at the train station. Girls were completely hysterical, crying and begging me to bring him back to them.”_

_“Good for him,” Louis says sourly. He's still trying not to think about Marlon's lifeless eyes because that leads to thinking about his girlfriend and mother and little brothers who had all similarly pleaded with Louis to bring their boy home._

_“He didn't even want to see them,” Johanna muses. “Just wanted to cuddle with his sister and mom.”_

_“I should go talk to sponsors,” Louis says abruptly. He really needs to leave the room before he accidentally punches Johanna. Watching twenty-four hour coverage of the game while having to converse with her is too emotionally exhausting for him to handle._

_“Do you even have any sponsors?” Johanna asks doubtfully._

_“Yes,” he snaps. Not many, admittedly. The other tributes are using the blistering heat as an excuse to prance around in their underwear while attempting to send covert “alluring” glances to where they think there might be cameras. It is working to their advantage, and many of them are racking up sponsors. Keri is still wearing all her clothing. Good for her in terms of pride and dignity, bad for her in terms of money._

_The following day the game makers rectify the giant gap in distance between the tributes who stayed near the Cornucopia and those who made it to tree cover. A pack of carnivorous desert cats emerge and chase the careers. One of Finnick's tributes gets killed when the other careers push him down and leave him behind as bate. “What a beautiful alliance,” Louis says sarcastically._

_He worries about Keri all day. Although she doesn't realize it she is distressingly close to where Harry is hiding out. Louis doesn't really know a whole lot about Harry, but seeing as he's Johanna's tribute he's hardly good news for Keri's chances at winning._

_Louis' been saving up money, and is considering sending Keri some food to raise her spirits when the unthinkable happens. She reaches into a shallow pond for water to splash off her face, and when she pulls her arms back out, they are covered in colossal sized leeches. She lets out a choked off scream and attempts to pull, scratch and scrape them off her arms. Nothing works, and Louis can see her eyes rapidly lose focus, she is losing too much blood._

_Frantically, he begins to make calls with the sponsors and gift organizers. Is he going to get it there on time? He spends every last penny he has from the sponsors and stares at the television screen desperately. Please let it get there before she passes out._

_Keri's face is pressed to the dirt and she appears to be fluttering in and out of consciousness when the little basket lands next to her head. It seems like it takes every amount of muscle power she possesses to pull herself up slightly and open the bag. Salt. She pours it all over her arms and watches in disbelief as the engorged slugs shrivel up and fall off._

_“Now you have to leave Keri,” Louis mutters to himself. “Go hide.” He can see Harry cautiously appraising his surroundings in the far left screen. He's heard something._

_Keri, weak from blood loss, doesn't seem like she's going to be moving anytime soon. Johanna is mercifully silent beside him as Harry creeps forward and tentatively peers through a gap in the trees. Inexplicably, his whole face brightens. “Ker?”_

_“Harry?” Keri doesn't look frightened or like she's about to run, which makes absolutely no sense to Louis. What had Harry done during training to make all the tributes let a big boy with an axe prance around as if he was a harmless little girl? “Watch out for the water,” Keri croaks. “There are giant leeches.”_

_Louis glares at the screen. Well there goes her best bet at eliminating him. He might be bigger and stronger than her, but he also seemed like the type of klutz who would get too close to the water and then trip over his own feet and tumble in._

_Harry and Keri stick together for the rest of the day. Harry helps her to safety and then shares his food with her. Louis knows that hypothetically an alliance with a strong tribute is a good thing, but he has a bad feeling that it will not be worth it in the end. A smart person in an alliance is the person that can sacrifice their ally to escape a desert cat. Louis doesn't think Keri is that person._

_They're kind of sweet to watch though. A nice break in pace from all the blood and tears. They giggle and muck around like the children they are. Keri teases Harry about girls and asks him how many he has waiting for his heroic return. “Come on Harry! Lets help the viewers out. What does it take to become Mrs. Harold Styles?”_

_Harry goes bright red and shuffles around sheepishly. “I just like people who are nice.”_

_Louis is annoyed because the boy is endearingly sweet, and Keri can't forget that he needs to die._

_In the end, the alliance pays off. The careers go on the prowl in the evening, and the over confident, stupidly cocky boy from District 2 breaks off from the pack when he thinks he spots movement. Keri is still a little woozy from blood loss and doesn't move as fast as she normally would._

_Suddenly, the boy has her in death grip headlock, and is grinning maniacally at the camera. It's at that moment that sweet, innocent Harry Styles buries his axe in the back of District 2's skull._

 

 

The second time Harry calls him is during the middle of the night. Louis cannot immediately determine who it is at the other end of the line. All he can hear through the speaker is frantic breathing and desperate words spewed out in a high pitched mess of tears and hysteria. In other words, Harry is completely and inconsolably hysterical.

It takes Harry upwards of twenty minutes to pull himself together enough to become coherent. “T-they j-just stared at m-me. His mom and dad and brothers and sisters. I k-killed him. He's d-dead because of m-me.”

The District 2 victory tour stop had been that day, Louis realizes with a start. He could easily understand the special kind of hell it was to stare into the eyes of the parents whose child you killed.

“I dreamed that it was happening again,” Harry says tearfully. “I killed him and then blood started coming out of my eyes and my ears and I couldn't stop it. And Keri was screaming and her hair became snakes and they started to chew at her eyes-”

“It wasn't real,” Louis states with as much conviction as he can muster. It's hard to say that believably when they both know that there are elements to the dream that are very much real. “It's over now,” he amends.

“Is it though?” Harry asks desperately. “Is it ever really over?”

Louis doesn't have an answer to that. Not a good one anyway.

“Sometimes I just wish I'd died in there,” Harry whispers. “I think a part of me did anyway.”

“You don't want to be dead,” Louis says quietly. “Even in the most hopeless situations there is always something worth living for. You just have to find that something.”

“Like flowers in my hair?”

Louis smiles wistfully. “Like flowers in your hair, and hugs from your mom, and profiteroles.”

“I do like profiteroles.” He can picture Harry smiling through his tears.

Louis hopes Harry finds millions of things worth living for.

 

 

 

_His realization of the day is that Johanna is not the enemy. Sometimes he forgets, because she is scary, rude, generally confrontational, and she'd killed his tributes in her season. It's important that he remembers that the reason she had killed them was because of Snow and his games. Snow was the enemy. Louis shouldn't forget._

_She's quieter now anyway. They sit and watch the games together, all the while negotiating with sponsors and pooling their resources to send Harry and Keri gifts._

_They tried to come up with a team name to endear themselves to capitol sponsors, but as it turns out Harry and Keri combined is either Karry or Heri...both of which still sound like their original names. So they don't make a team name for sponsors, but they do shout out RHYME TIME every time Harry and Keri appear on screen. It does not amuse any of the other mentors, but it is one small thing that helps them cope with the horror of the games. Pretend it is all a joke. Louis is never sure whether treating the lives of children as a joke is uplifting for his mental health, or simply incredibly callous._

_For several days, they both stay out of trouble. The death toll and gamemaker stunts are not something that affects Harry or Keri. The tributes from 8, 10, and 11 that survived the initial blood bath are hunted down and killed by the careers. The careers then decide that the brutish girl from one is too big a threat and turn on her, pummeling her with sticks and rocks as a team. It is brutal to the point that Louis has to close his eyes and hum loudly to tune out her screams._

_With so few tributes left, the careers fracture. The two girls from 2 and 4 stick together, and the boy from 1 disappears into the trees to hide. Louis can't stop shaking with nerves. He's never had a tribute make it to the final five before. He imagines being able to return Keri to her family ALIVE. The dream is so tantalizingly close._

_It's just when he's hit the painful peak of optimism that the girls from District 1 and 2, Diamond and Leopanine, track down Keri and Harry. Leopanine looks genuinely pained as she appraises them. “Hey Harry. I'm sorry it's come to this. You know I think you're a sweetheart. But we can't all win.”_

_Harry nods weakly. He's got his axe gripped tightly in his hand, but he's not striking; he can't seem to bring himself to make the first hit._

_“We could make it quick?” Diamond offers._

_“I'd rather fight actually,” Harry answers politely. Louis suspects it's taking him a supreme amount of effort to not let his voice shake._

_It's painful to watch, the way they start circling Harry with predatory gazes. Leopanine swipes at him with her knife, trying to stick it in his gut. He manages to jerk out of the way just in time and responds with a swing of his axe. Leo ducks it easily. Louis hates himself for how much he wants Keri to make a run for it. The girls are paying her no mind. She is no threat, easily disposable once they get rid of Harry._

_Diamond catches Harry of guard with a sharp knock of her hammer that catches his wrist. He drops the axe. He. Drops. The. Axe._

_Johanna is silently shaking beside him. He starts to scream at Keri to run. She has no weapon, and no ability to defend herself without Harry. She can't save him. She needs to leave._

_Keri starts to run. In the wrong direction. Louis doesn't see it coming. He probably should have, what with her comments about him being cute at the reaping, and the way she had been so thrilled to see him in the games._

_Louis can't completely comprehend the strength she must have summoned in that moment. Keri was not a particularly big or strong girl, but she still manages to drag Diamond and Leopanine forward with force of her forward momentum. She refuses to let go of them as the three of them fall into the water in a flail of limbs. She doesn't let go even as they scream and struggle, and it's only after the first two cannons have gone off that her grip finally loosens, and her eyes slowly fall closed._

_Louis is crying. Johanna is hyperventilating. Harry is screaming. Louis watches with his emotions shut off as Harry yanks her out of the water, desperately trying to pull the leeches off her puffy, unrecognizable skin all the while screaming her name urgently. “Keri! Keri! Wake it! Stop it! You do not g-get to leave me.” His words and frantic actions do not stop the cannon from going off._

_That's when Louis walks out._

 

 

Some days are harder than others.

Harry's victory tour has finally reached the capitol. His interview with Caesar makes reference to Keri. Louis almost has a panic attack. He's always been better at quelling other people's panic than he is at stopping his own.

He blames a thousand people for Keri's death. Sometimes he will rage against Diamond, Leoponine, Snow, the gamemakers, even Harry. The worst thing is that at the end of his rage he can really only blame himself. He should have saved her. There must have been a way.

Louis sees Keri's face in every girl he passes on the street, and when he stops seeing her face it transforms into the past tributes he'd mentored, and when that particular hell is over he starts seeing the people he killed in his games. It is an endless cycle of grief and regret of which he has no means of escaping.

It's on those days that he will sit on the concrete behind one of the factories and stare at the pills. Misty, the victor of the 53rd Hunger games had given them to him when he'd first won. She had told him it would help him forget. He's never taken them. He never will.

Still, on the days that feel particularly hopeless he stares at the morphling tablets. He stares at them and imagines a world where he can not remember.

 

 

_Louis continues to watch. Despite his best efforts, he has grown moderately attached to Harry during the alliance. Plus Keri gave up her life for that kid, the least he can do in return is win._

_The gamemakers release giant snakes to drive the last two tributes together. It's nauseating to watch the boys hack off the slithering creatures' heads. Harry's axe is stained dark red with snake's blood._

_Louis is not even sure if he does it on purpose. Harry had appeared to be completely focused on the snakes. His long limbs flail around wildly and without coordination, hitting snake...snake...snake...skull._

_The District 1 tribute goes down. A split second later a cannon goes off._

_“And the victor of the 72 nd Hunger games...from District 7...Harry Styles.”_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I know there wasn't a ton of interaction between Harry and Louis in this chapter, but now that they are both mentors they're going to be together pretty much all the time in future chapters.
> 
> Leave comments/kudos and come chat with me on [ Tumblr.](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -Kay


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 73rd Annual Hunger Games begin.

 “Red is very in this season,” his stylist tells him.

Louis supposes he will take her word for it. He thinks it is possible that yellow was in last season. Or purple. Or white. Actually, come to think of it, he has no idea what was in last season. 

Via the rumour mill, it is apparently public knowledge that even Caesar Flickerman's hair is dyed red at the moment. Louis' stylist spends a great deal of time speculating on whether Caesar had dyed his hair red because it was in, or whether red was in because Caesar had dyed his hair. According to her it was one of life's many unanswerable questions. 

“It certainly keeps me up at night,” Louis says dryly. 

His stylist nods seriously. Louis reminds himself for the thousandth time that capitol citizens rarely understand his particular brand of sarcasm. 

“You look ridiculous,” Finnick informs him in a flat voice when he enters the room. 

“I'm aware.” Louis is dressed in tight red sequined shorts, red suspenders over a bare chest, and a sparkly red bow tie. “You're wearing the same thing as me, Finnick,” he adds grumpily. 

“When you look as good as me it hardly matters what you're wearing,” Finnick's cocky smile is so fake and his eyes so blank that Louis doesn't even bother making a snide remark in response. 

Harry stumbles into the room just as the finishing touches to Louis' quiff are being made. His eyes are red rimmed and his hair is greasy and flat. The first day back in the capitol as a mentor is always difficult. Louis suspects he's been crying. “Hey Lou, do you want...” Harry trails off as he stares at Louis in bewilderment.

Louis sincerely regrets not locking the door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“You know how the capitol trends are,” Louis shrugs weakly. “The dress codes for their parties are always strange.”

“You're going to a capitol party,” Harry says flatly. His voice might be expressionless but his face gives away everything. He is clearly disgusted. 

Louis could explain why he is going. He could justify himself. He doesn't. Harry thinking he's a vapid capitol leach is infinitely better than the truth. 

Harry no longer seems sure as to whether he even wants to go through with his question. In the end it would appear that his need for company wins out. “Do you think you could maybe...not go...tonight? I just...Johanna has gone to bed and I thought maybe we could talk-”

“Can't,” Louis cuts him off. It's not a lie. He really can't miss the party. Or the part after the party. He's already been paid for. 

“Right,” Harry's voice is choked. “That's...right...whatever.” He leaves the room without a backward glance.

Finnick raises his eyebrows questioningly once Harry's gone. “You not going to tell him? He's going to find out anyway. Johanna says Snow has arranged to meet with him tomorrow night. She's planning on warning him that he has to sell his body for Snow or his family will end up just like hers.”

Louis feels sick. He doesn't want to think about that. “I can't be the one to tell him.”

Finnick shrugs. That's the best part about him, Louis thinks. Finnick never judges. 

“Well come on then,” Louis says briskly, determined to keep himself together. “Our ladies await.”

 

* * *

 

The opening ceremonies are so stupid that Louis can barely comprehend how even the capitol citizens could find entertainment in them. 

Perhaps he is slightly prejudiced, as being from District 6, his tributes are always insured the very worst, most incomprehensibly idiotic costumes. District 6's theme is transportation, which means their tributes can essentially be dressed up as buggies, scooters, or hovercrafts. All of which are terrible costumes. His tributes this year are dressed up in silver suits with jet packs on their backs. Louis has no idea what form of transportation that even is, certainly nothing his district actually builds. 

This year his tributes are seventeen and eighteen years old. Hypothetically, them being older should make it easier. Harry and Johanna's tributes, by some terrible twist of fate, are both twelve years old. 

Harry is fussing over them like a worried parent. Louis watches from a distance as he adjusts their tree costumes and smooths down their hair and gives them both hugs before boosting them up into the chariot. Louis swallows down a lump in his throat. Every time he thinks that the games can't possibly get any more heartbreaking he sees something like that.

“Remember to smile. Try to appear friendly,” Louis reminds his tributes halfheartedly.

“Why?” His boy, Richard, asks angrily. “They're about to watch us get slaughtered! Why would I be friendly?”

Louis is really not up for explaining the concept of sponsors to an angry teenager. “Fine. Go for the angry angle. I don't give a shit.”

He's pretty sure he wasn't quite this horrible to Keri and Marlon last year. Keri and Marlon were dead though, so what difference had it made in the end?

“You could at least act like you give a shit whether we live or die!” Victoria, his female, snaps.

“Do you believe you can win this?” he asks her calmly. “Do you think you can beat the careers? Kill people before they kill you first?”

She shakes her head.

“Then why should I give a shit whether you die? You've essentially already told me you're going to! I'm sure you know your own capabilities better than I do.”

Someone is slow clapping behind him. “Wow, you really do know how to inspire confidence in your kids. Teach me your ways?” Johanna asks sarcastically.

He turns away from Victoria and Richard's angry gazes. “It's a skill,” he informs her lightly. “Why aren't you with your tributes?”

“They're twelve,” she shakes her head. “They're not going to win. I don't want to have to know two little kids who are going to die.”

“So you're going to make Harry do it?” Louis can't help but slip a little judgement into his tone. It's the kid's first year mentoring, surely she could help him a little bit.

“I told him not to do it either,” Johanna snaps. “I'm not making him do anything. He wants to.”

“Sorry,” Louis sighs. “I didn't mean to sound...”

“It's fine...I'm just...Harry's meeting with Snow tonight. I'm going to warn him about...what he's going to ask...and what he has to answer, right after this is over.”

Louis nods. “Finnick mentioned it to me.”

“Do you want to help me?” Johanna asks hopelessly. “He likes you. Don't you guys talk on the phone all the time? It might make it easier-”

“No,” he says. “It won't make anything easier.” Because his entire body still hurts from last night, because if he has to talk about any of it he will cry, because he and Finnick have a finely tuned strategy that involves not addressing their problems, because of a million different reasons. “It'll make everything harder.”

They stay silent after that and watch on large screens as the chariots start to leave the Remake Centre. They fill the loop of the City Circle and eventually pull to a stop in front of President Snow's mansion. Victoria and Richard are smiling the entire time. 

 

* * *

 

There is someone banging at his door. Correction, it is _the middle of the night_ and there is someone banging at his door. In Louis' experience that never means anything good. 

“You fucking lazy asswipe I swear to fucking god I will tear your dick off and feed it to a pack of wild dogs and take fucking flash photography of the whole thing if you don't pull your shit together and open your fucking door!”

So it is Johanna banging at his door then. Even worse. Groaning, he drags himself out of bed and yanks on some sweats before stumbling over to unlock his door. 

He is expecting that maybe Johanna is just angry about something or other and wants to vent. She gets angry about a lot of things that Louis can never really bring himself to care about. He realizes that something is actually seriously wrong when she doesn't even comment about the fact that half his pubes are showing. “Come with me.” She grabs his arm and begins marching down the corridor.

“What?” he asks stupidly as he trips along beside her.

“He won't stop crying,” Johanna says through gritted teeth. “I can't talk any sense into him. He can't breathe properly and he looks like he is going to rip his skin off. You need to fix him.”

Louis barely has a second to wrap his mind around what she is saying before he is being shoved into another bedroom. Harry is curled up on the bed, crying hysterically. 

Louis' breath catches in his throat as he appraises the situation. Harry is wearing only a small pair of boxers, and it is therefore easy to see the red scratches running down the length of his chest and the bruises circling his neck. Usually the first meeting with Snow is just to inform you about what is expected of you in the near future. It would appear that this time Snow had already had someone waiting for Harry. 

He carefully sits on the bed next to Harry, making sure not to initiate physical contact lest it upset him even more. Johanna was right, Harry couldn't even seem to breathe properly. His breath was coming in painful wheezes amidst choked off sobs. “Shhh...” Louis soothes. It's going to be okay. Just breathe.”

Harry looks up at him. His eyes are terrified. He's trying to stop crying, Louis realizes. He wants to breathe and he wants to calm down but _he can't_. And it's the most terrifying thing. 

With that realization Louis pulls Harry into his lap. Harry buries his face into Louis' tummy, crying even harder. “I can't stop crying,” he croaks into Louis' skin. “Why can't I stop?”

“It's normal,” Louis strokes his hair back soothingly. “Just give it some time. I'm not going anywhere.”

Harry cries for two hours. He's terrified the entire time, periodically begging Louis to make it stop. Johanna passes out against the bedside table an hour in. Her face is pinched and worried even in sleep. 

The crying eventually stops, but that only makes way for the full body tremors. Harry starts to scratch frantically at the skin on his arms, his tummy, his neck. He's all but ripping chunks of his skin off. Louis yanks his arms back harsher then he intended. Harry freezes and then starts shaking even more violently.

“I'm sorry,” Louis whispers hastily. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just don't want you scratching your skin off. Do you want a shower? Is that what it is?” Louis personally spends hours scrubbing their touch off his skin.

“Y-yeah,” Harry answers shakily. He makes no attempt to move, too exhausted to even get himself to the bathroom. 

Louis scoops him up into his arms and carries him there. Harry is big but he is mostly bones, light and easy to lift. He carefully deposits him into the bathtub, turning the shower on scalding hot and letting Harry curl up under the stream of water. 

Harry is still unmoving, so Louis hesitantly sits on the edge of the tub. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Harry nods ever so slightly. Louis begins to work shampoo into Harry's damp curls as gently as possible. Harry closes his eyes and tips his head back. Without ever ceasing his soft movements he washes Harry's chest and back with a soapy loofah.

When he is finally done he helps Harry out of the tub and wraps him up in a fluffy towel. Harry looks up at him with wide eyes and wet hair sticking to his skull. He looks like a tiny kid, all bundled up in the towel.

Louis leads him back to bed and lets him cuddle back onto his lap. “It's going to get better,” he murmurs into Harry's damp hair. “I'll help you. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Harry's eyes are crusty and red with dried tears when he wakes up. He looks small and uncertain as he stares up at Louis trustingly.

“We're going on a day trip!” Louis tells him briskly. He's already showered and dressed, having woken several hours ago from a terrible nightmare. 

“Where?” Harry asks him in confusion.

“You'll see,” Louis says brightly. “You're not a tribute anymore. We're not obliged to stay in training headquarters. We can go wherever we want.” Which was not strictly true, but close enough.

“So we're going out into the city? For real?”

“We're going to do something...happy.” Louis knows that he can't do much to make Harry's life better. He's always going to be traumatized from his games, his life will always be under the capitol's control, and he will continue to watch children die for as long as he lives. But doing one thing on this one day to make him happy seems plausible enough. 

Harry smiles at him tremulously. “That sounds nice.”

“Course it does babe. So chop chop! Get dressed!”

Harry scrambles out of bed and runs to his closet. “What should I wear?”

“Your favourite clothes,” Louis says dramatically. “What will make you happiest to wear?” 

Harry pulls on a pair of skin tight skinny jeans and a grey sweater. “Look okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course skinny jeans would be your favourite clothes, you giant weirdo.”

Grinning, Harry does a little spin. “I've been told they make my legs look amazing by every girl in District 7. I'm pulling out all the stops to impress you.” He bats his eyelashes playfully.

Louis finds himself laughing. In all the grief and madness of the games it is sometimes hard to see that the people there used to and can be funny, smart and charming. “You're a flirt Harry Styles! Who knew?”

“Only for you, Lou.”

Louis realizes in horror that his cheeks are growing hot. He had thought he had lost the ability to blush over the last three years. Apparently a charming Harry Styles was all it took to break past his practiced layer of indifference and actually make him feel flustered. 

_He's Keri's boy._ Louis reminds himself. _In a different, better world, Harry and Keri would have lived happily after together._ _You're just looking after him for her._

“No time for chit chat now, Styles,” Louis reaches up to ruffle his hair. Harry leans into it like a happy kitten. “We're on a tight schedule.”

He leads Harry out of the training quarters. They collect metal bands at the gate that are locked onto their wrists by a grumpy capitol attendant.

“What are these for?” Harry whispers.

“They're trackers,” he answers. “Obviously less intense than having them injected into your arm like during the games. They basically just tell the capitol where we've gone, and if we try to take them off or disengage them in any way peacekeepers would come collect us.” 

“That's not too bad. I still can't believe we can just leave and go wander like this!” Harry is giddy as they walk through the streets. He can't stop spinning his head from side to side, taking everything in, clearly relishing the freedom. 

“There's some pretty cool stuff here,” Louis admits. “Once you get past all of the terrible bits.” He turns into the doorway of a fancy cafe. “This place has the best hot chocolates.”

“What's that?” Harry's wide eyed and eager as he follows Louis in. “Is it a drink?”

“Two hot chocolates, please,” he tells a woman standing behind the counter. She has hideous red hair (because red is in, he supposes). “And two red velvet cupcakes as well.”

“What are those?” Harry is bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “I mean I know what cupcakes are...they're like muffins sort of, right? But how are they red velvet? Are those the hot chocolates? Are they supposed to be brown? What's the foamy white stuff she's putting in the cups?”

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves a cupcake in Harry's face. “Just try it, you goof. You can eat while we walk.”

Harry is very preoccupied for the rest of the walk. He demolishes his cupcake in a couple of seconds and then sets his puppy dog eyes on Louis until he gets half of his cupcake as well. He then spends a few perplexing moments giving the whipped cream on top of his drink little kitten licks, before he decides he likes that too. “I like hot chocolate,” Harry informs Louis. He has whipped cream on his nose. Louis decides not to mention it.

“Okay silly, close your eyes. We're almost there.” Harry obediently closes his eyes and links his arm with Louis'. 

Louis leads Harry to a patch of springy grass and pulls him into a sitting position. “Alright, you can open your eyes.”

Harry's eyelids flutter open and he lets out a gasp. They are surrounded by every colour imaginable. Reds, and blues, and purples and every shade in between, as far as the eye can see. Only in the capitol, Louis muses, would there be a park that contains every single beautiful flower in existence. He suspects that at least half of them are genetically engineered, because colours that vibrant cannot possibly occur randomly in nature. 

“I like coming here,” he tells Harry quietly. “There's hardly ever anyone else, probably because all the capitol citizens are busy with their fashion shows and dinner parties. It's always quiet and peaceful.”

“It's amazing,” Harry breathes. “Everything is so still. Even in district seven things are hardly ever this still.”

They don't really talk much after that. Instead they lie back on the grass and doze in and out of consciousness for a while. Harry rests his head on Louis' lap and lazily points out his favourite flowers while Louis fiddles with his curls. When they get hungry they delve into the sandwiches and lemonade that Louis had packed early that morning. 

The sky eventually begins to darken and the ground beneath them becomes cooler, but still they don't move. “In my next life, I'm going to be a flower.” Harry informs him.

“Which one?”

“Whichever one smells the best. I still have to find out which one that is.”

Louis closes his eyes and nods. “Well we have plenty of flowers to look through.”

Harry's wrist band flashes suddenly and emits a loud buzzing sound. He looks at Louis anxiously. “What does that mean?”

“It means you're wanted for something back in our quarters,” Louis says dully. Abruptly, he feels cold. 

“No.” Harry goes from calm and happy to terrified in an instance. “Not again. I can't do it again.” Louis can see him begin to panic, his lower lip trembling and his eyes tearing up. “P-please, I can't.”

Louis inhales shakily and presses his forehead to Harry's. “Yes, you can. That's why I brought you here. No matter what you're being forced to do, I want you to pretend you are right here, sitting in the middle of thousands of flowers with me.”

Harry is crying silently now.

“They can do whatever they want with your body and you have no way of stopping them,” Louis continues firmly, “But they do not have control of your mind. That's the one thing that is not their's. Mentally, you can be anywhere in the world.” 

“So I can just go somewhere else in my head?” Harry asks in a small voice. “My body will be there but I'm going to be with you?”

“Yes. You're going to be with me. And we're going to be having a lovely day. I'll buy you hot chocolate and take you to a flower garden.”

“A lovely day,” Harry repeats through his tears. “We'll be having a lovely day.” He allows Louis to lead him back to headquarters, back to Snow.

Louis wishes with everything inside of him that he could be leading Harry in the opposite direction. 

 

* * *

 

Richard and Victoria are quite possibly the most irritating tributes Louis has ever mentored. He generally tries not to think ill of people who have been dragged from their homes and are now likely going to die in the next couple weeks, but he makes an exception just this once. 

They disagree with everything he says, roll their eyes every time he turns his back, and for some mysterious reason choose to act as if it's his fault that their names got picked. 

“You should have trained us better,” Victoria tells him as they wait for their training scores to go up. “If you'd taught me a skill I would get a good score!”

“I'm not in charge of teaching you a skill,” he snaps. “Maybe you should have been smart and learned something useful over the last seventeen years of your life.” 

“I didn't know I was going to need to know how to kill people!”

“Oh really?” he asks snidely. “I suppose you never realized the Hunger Games were a thing, did you? You just thought two people from our district were going for a nice, long vacation every year?”

She goes bright red and looks like she would very much like to slap him. 

“Shut up,” Richard orders. “They're starting to announce the scores.”

The careers, as usual, all receive high scores. Victoria stares at him pointedly while District 4's tens are being shown, as though he should be taking notes on how to be a better mentor. The jokes on her, seeing as he knows for a fact that Finnick avoids both his tributes like the plague. 

Richard's face flashes on the screen, and then right underneath it, a nine appears. 

Louis is shocked. Receiving a nine does not mean that the tribute was fast, or could camouflage himself, or could lift something heavy. A nine meant that he'd been able to demonstrate an actual method of killing other tributes. 

“What did you do?” Louis asks suspiciously.

“You'll see,” Richard answers smugly.

“You're not supposed to be keeping it a secret from me!” Louis is becoming more and more exasperated. “I need to know what you can do to help me arrange sponsors and come up with a game strategy!”

“I got a six.” Victoria interjects sulkily. “Not that either of you were paying attention. I suppose you taught Richard a skill. I knew that I would suffer for not having a female mentor. I'll have you know that I do not appreciate the blatant male favouritism happening here.” 

“'I'm not favouring Richard! I dislike him just as much as I dislike you!”

“Don't lie to me!” she says shrilly. “You favour boys. That's the only explanation for how you could just forgive Harry Styles for what he did to Keri last year.”

Louis' blood goes cold. “Harry didn't do anything to Keri.”

Victoria snorts. “Really? He pretends to have feelings for her, tricks her into thinking he loves her back, to the extent that she sacrificed her life for him! Keri was clearly just a step in his game plan.”

His head hurts. To be honest, Louis tries his very best to never think about what happened to Keri. In the back of his mind, however, he always assumed that Harry and Keri had mutual crushes on each other. He had assumed that her sacrifice had hurt Harry, not just saved him. 

“We're getting off topic,” he snaps at them. “We should be working on your angles for your interviews with Caesar.”

“I could be brave and strong,” Richard offers.

“I could be beautiful and kind,” Victoria says. 

They are definitely both just trying to piss him off. Victoria is smirking at him. She knows he won't be able to resist insulting them now. “Richard can be rude and stupid and you can be annoying and stupid,” he tells her. “I'm going for a walk.”

After about an hour of searching he finds Finnick hiding under a staircase. “Your tributes both got tens,” he tells him.

Finnick does not respond.

“Richard got a nine. What do you think he did?”

Finnick shrugs. “Beats me. Your tributes are usually worse than useless in their training sessions.” 

“Do you think Harry liked Keri?”

“Yeah, of course he liked her,” Finnick looks at him curiously. “They seemed to get along great.”

“No...but...did he _like her_ like her?” It was important that someone answers that crucial question for him. He needs Finnick to tell him that of course Harry _liked her_ liked her. He needs to be told that Keri's death probably broke his heart. That he'll never love again.

Finnick doesn't say that. “I think you'd have to ask Harry, mate.” 

“It doesn't matter anyway,” he tells Finnick desperately. “I forgave Johanna for killing Joseph and Milly. I could forgive Harry for lying to Keri.” 

Finnick just nods agreeably. _Useless bastard._

 

* * *

 

He sincerely wishes red was not in. His stylist had warned him, but yet he had never thought to actually picture what Caesar would look like with red hair. He knows now that the image will forever be burned into his retinas. Caesar's entire head looks like it is bleeding and Louis suspects it's extremely off putting for the tributes he is interviewing. 

Louis gives Victoria credit for the fact that she does not shudder too visibly when she sees Caesar for the first time. Surprisingly, Victoria is actually charming and funny throughout her interview. When did she get a sense of humour? The audience are actually smiling and laughing with her. 

“You got yourself another, Keri?” Haymitch asks loudly next to him. “Don't get so attached to this one maybe.” He burps loudly.

Louis crinkles his nose. He regrets sitting next to Haymitch. At the time it had seemed like the best way to avoid Harry. “She's not another Keri. Keri was sweet. Victoria is evil.”

Haymitch laughs uproariously. Several capitol sponsors glare at them. Louis remembers why sitting with Haymitch can actually be entertaining. “I forgot how much the capitol hate you. We should spend more time together.” 

“Bring me some brandy and we can spend as much time together as you want, kid.” 

Richard is up. Louis is pretty sure he had decided that he really was going to go with the angle of brave and strong in his interview. He mostly just comes across as cocky and arrogant though. 

“I don't like him,” Haymitch grunts. “Something fishy about him.”

“You smell like fish,” Louis mutters sullenly. Because Louis is the only one who is allowed to insult his tributes. That's a rule.

“Had it for supper last week,” Haymitch supplies helpfully. 

“You are disgusting,” Louis deadpans. He sneaks off as soon as the last tributes are done. He might have been trying to avoid Harry by hiding with Haymitch, but at least Harry had bathed in the last week.

True to form Harry finds him the second he reenters the civilized world where people actually wash themselves and don't burp in public. “Where were you? Did you see my kids? I think they did really well, don't you? They were very nice and polite and it seemed like the audience liked them. And I think your Victoria did really well too! Why did you not like her again? Louis?”

Louis hesitates. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answers immediately. “Anything.”

“Did you like Keri? Like properly like her. Like her as in if you were in a different situation you would want to date her.”

“Date her?” Harry looks scared, all of the sudden, as if he knows there is only one right answer to this question and he's not about to give it. “I-why are you asking me this? We were friends. She was my friend. I miss her everyday. I have n-nightmares about her dying every night.”

“So you didn't like her then,” Louis feels like he's going to throw up. “You knew she had feelings for you and you thought she would be a good ally to make...because she would never hurt you and would do anything to protect you-”

“No!” Harry is horrified,and appears seconds away from tears. “No Louis! I liked her so much, she was my best friend in the games. But I don't- I don't uh...girls...I mean-”

It's almost too late when Louis realizes where Harry is going with his explanation. “Stop talking,” he hisses. “Stop. Follow me.”

Harry stutters out desperate apologies as Louis drags him out of the building. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Keri, and I'm sorry about me. I s-shouldn't have told you, I know it's weird and-”

“Quiet,” Louis pulls him over to an open section of grass out in front of the building. He doesn't think there are any cameras near by anymore. “You can't say that. I don't care about weirdness or whatever...but you can't say that. Unless you want Snow to start selling you to men instead of women you better keep up your strong, dominant, axe wielding, macho man act.”

“W-what?”

“If you thinking being forced to fuck people is bad then trust me, getting fucked against your will is about a thousand times worse and a million times more painful. You're going to want to stick with girls.”

“O-okay,” Harry reaches for Louis' arm tentatively. “Has that happened to you?”

“Lets not talk about me,” Louis feels exhausted. He just wants to go back to his room and go to sleep. 

“Keri knew,” Harry whispers hesitantly. “About me and uh...girls. I told her about it during training. We were friends then too.” 

Louis spends a second taking that in before he abruptly starts crying. He's horrified at himself but once it begins he can't seem to hold it back. “Thank you,” he sobs into Harry's shoulder. “Thank you so much.” 

 

* * *

 

Victoria and Richard are waiting outside his door when he gets back. “Great, it's you two,” he says unenthusiastically. “You want to know how I think your interviews went? Richard, you were predictably awful. Even Haymitch didn't like you, and he's usually too drunk to even form an opinion. Victoria, you were surprisingly not awful. Rundown over.”

Richard snorts dismissively. “Big surprise, you think I was awful. That probably means I was amazing.” He stomps away.

Victoria stays by his door. “Was I actually alright?”

Louis gives a reluctant nod. “You were funny. The audience liked you.”

“Thanks,” she smiles shyly, which is not anything he has ever seen her do before. Is she attempting to be civil to him? “And just so you know...like...I know I'm really annoying to you, but I can't help messing with you a bit. You have really funny, angry responses. And it's just easier to focus on being aggravating to you then deal with...you know...my impending death.” She lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry if I've actually driven you crazy.”

“Don't,” he says harshly.

She looks confused. “Don't what?”

“Don't make me want you to live. I'd really like to keep hating you.”

Victoria nods as if that makes perfect sense. “Okay. In that case, you're the most annoying human being I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, and I spend every day dreaming of being given a better mentor.”

“It's too late now," he snaps. “Thanks a lot.”

“Is it so bad to care about whether I live or die?” she calls after him as he storms into his room.

He has no answer for her. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually so sorry I had to do this to Harry...I tried to think of a way for this to not happen to either Harry or Louis. But if you've read Mockingjay you know that Finnick says that Snow prostitutes out the attractive tributes, and the only reason it didn't happen to Haymitch or Johanna was because their families were dead.
> 
> Anyway...please let me know what you think! Leave comments/kudos and come chat with me on [ tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> -Kay


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One day things are going to change,” Beetee says confidently. “They have to.”

He does not have the slightest clue what is happening. 

That morning Louis had received a request to report to deck 49, level 72, room 63. He had showed up promptly at 10 am, after having been dressed and fixed up by his stylist. Initially, there had been nothing unusual about the situation. The room was spacious, with a large bed in the centre and a tray of champagne and chocolates on the bedside table. The woman sitting on the bed was a typical capitol citizen, with vibrant red hair and silver flowers tattooed on her cheeks. 

Even when she had started to behave slightly atypically (asking him if he would like to sit down, not attempting to remove either of their clothing, looking around the room as if she expected someone to pop out of the framework), he had still not suspected that anything was different.

“What would you like to do today?” he had asked her dutifully. He was already slipping into the emotionless, dead to the world mind frame that he adapted at these times. Any part of his head that still hurt and hoped and felt was in district six playing with his sisters. 

When Louis is in this dark place in his head, he is admittedly not prepared for dealing with changes in routine. Which is why he is not altogether sure what he is supposed to do when the woman starts tearing apart the room. 

“Ummm m'am?” he asks hesitantly. She shushes him impatiently as she continues to search the room for God knows what. That's about as much effort as Louis is willing to exert into understanding a capitol citizen. He wonders if her going insane is a good excuse for him to slip out. Can he risk leaving? 

He eventually comes to the conclusion that sticking around is probably in his best interest. If all goes well maybe he won't even have to do anything, seeing as the woman is clearly having some sort of psychotic break. With that cheery thought he plops himself against the wall and starts munching on the chocolates. 

At the sound of him sitting down the woman turns to stare at him. “Right,” she says. “Right, okay. No working cameras.”

Louis nods agreeably. 

“So you're from district six then...” she begins pleasantly.

“Yes,” he snaps, her words all too familiar. “And yes my family is in district six and I'm perfectly aware of what will happen to them if I don't cooperate. So you're really just wasting your time threatening me. Snow's got it covered.” It was maybe a bit of an overreaction on his part, but he was tired of spoiled capitol women thinking that they had to reiterate painful facts to him time and time again.

“Alright,” she brushes past his rant as if he had not spoken. “The creative head of hovercraft transportation also lives in district six, am I right?”

Louis schools his features so as to not visibly react to her words. He had cut off all contact with him years ago. He had not wanted to give the capitol anyone else to use against him. There was no way for her to know that they had ever been friends. “I would assume he lives in district six, seeing as we are in charge of hovercraft transportation,” he answers coldly. “I can't say I really know who he is though.” 

“That's fine,” she says indifferently. “I'm sure you know where to find him at least. Let him know that thirteen is my favourite number.” 

Louis is officially lost. Nothing makes sense anymore and he is half convinced that he's in the middle of a very vivid dream. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

She ignores his question, which is something he finds absolutely infuriating. “I've decided that I'm not actually in the mood,” she tells him. “You should tell people that you just got me to finish quickly with your sexual prowess. It would help both our reputations, don't you think?”

“I don't even know who you are,” he says blankly. 

She pats his head as if he is a small child. “I think that's probably for the best dear.” 

 

* * *

 

The games begin in two hours. He and Harry are huddled under his covers. Louis likes to imagine that they will never have to reemerge. They can just stay cuddled up in bed and not come out for years. 

“I'm not ready for this,” Harry whispers into the darkness. “I thought nothing could be more terrifying than being a tribute...but...this is just as bad.”

Louis tries to think of something wise and helpful to say. That's what he does for Harry, pathetic as it sounds. He spends a disproportionate amount of time mulling over what he can say to make Harry's life less difficult. 

“I don't think anyone is ever really ready for this,” he says slowly. “It's kind of impossible.” 

“They're just kids you know?” Harry tells him desperately, as if he doesn't think Louis will believe him. “They're twelve years old. Max still sleeps with a teddy bear at night and Beth asked me this morning if I would take care of her _dolls_ for her when she's gone.”

This is new and horrifying information. Louis fights down the urge to ask Harry to please stop talking. Picturing Harry's pint sized tributes saying goodbye to their teddy bears and dolls is almost too much for him to cope with. 

“Do you think one of yours might win this year?” Harry asks. “Richard got a really high score.”

“He got the same score you did last year,” Louis muses. “But the careers all got high scores this year too. And there are more of them. Plus I don't even know what he did to get that score. He wouldn't tell me.” 

“I wish mine could win,” Harry confesses. “I know it's like...not likely. Johanna says I'm being an idiot for even hoping...but I can't not.”

“We all hope,” Louis reluctantly concedes. “We pretend we don't care...but when it comes down to it we're all wishing there was a way we could keep ours alive. Even Johanna.” 

“Are we not going to be friends during the games then?” Harry frets. “Because we want different people to win? Do all the mentors just stop talking to each other for the next couple weeks?”

“Not really, no,” Louis shrugs. “We might get a bit pissy...but we stick together for the most part.”

Harry is appeased. He cuddles up closer and nuzzles his face into the crook of Louis' neck. “That's good. I never want you to not talk to me.”

Louis rests his chin on Harry's head and drapes an arm across his lower back. “I'll always talk to you. Even if it's only to make fun of you.”

Harry giggles and sticks out his tongue. It's wet and sloppy against Louis' neck.

“Eww,” Louis shrieks and shoves Harry away from him. “Get your cooties off me Styles. God, now I need to go sanitize.” 

“Nooo,” Harry moans, arms flailing around as he grabs Louis' hips and pulls him back against his chest. “I don't have cooties. Stay.” 

Louis nestles against Harry's skinny frame. “No more licking then. You're not a dog.”

“I'm not?” Harry demands dramatically. 

He is so blatantly _not_ funny that Louis laughs. “You're stupid.” 

Harry grins and licks a long stripe up Louis' cheek. Louis squirms away, swatting at Harry. He wonders what it would look like, if someone came into his room and looked over at his bed right now. All they would see would be a whole lot of movement and giggling coming from under a blanket. The thought makes him feel vaguely nauseous. He doesn't like to associate sex with anyone he actually cares about. The whole concept of sex and love has been made repulsive to him. 

“That's enough,” he says sternly.

Harry pouts but settles down. “Can we just cuddle for a little bit longer?”

“Sure Haz,” Louis sighs. “Just for a little bit longer.”

 

* * *

 

The games this year are in a setting dissimilar to anything Louis has ever seen before. There are no trees anywhere in the arena. Instead, the snowy landscape is composed entirely of a network of complex interconnecting caves. For the first time that Louis can remember there is next to no bloodbath in the cornucopia, as the weaker tributes immediately dart into the nearest cave and become impossible to find. 

Victoria has prudently disappeared into the caves within fifteen seconds of the gong going. She makes the smart move. It makes sense for anyone who is not a career to dissipate quickly. Richard does not seem to have realized this because he is not leaving. He's not moving. He's not running. He's sauntering over to the careers. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Louis winces, bracing himself for Richard's speedy demise. Why did his male tributes always die within the first hour? Marlon had at least attempted to run. Richard's actions indicated blatant stupidity at this point. 

“Get over here dude,” Finnick's male tribute calls out. “This is fucking inconvenient. We're going to have to go hunt them down.” 

“They can't have gotten that far,” Richard answers lazily. “We'll get them.”

This is worse than Louis had ever imagined. One of his tributes is in an alliance with the careers. How did he not know about this?

“Welcome to the team,” Enoboria pats the empty seat next to her, shooting him a pointy toothed grin. 

Shit. He's actually going to have to interact with the career mentors. He's going to die. “I want my alliance with you back,” he groans to Johanna. “At the time that was my worst nightmare...but this is officially worse.” 

“I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” Johanna scoffs. 

“We're going to send them some warm clothes and fire starting material for tonight,” Cashmere informs him from across the room. “Get over here and arrange your sponsors with us.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't have enough sponsors to send any of my tributes that kind of stuff.”

“You will now,” Gloss tells him bluntly. “They'll all be jumping on you now that you're allied with us.” 

“Isn't it fun to be on the winning team for once?” Enoboria smirks at him. He really wants to rip her teeth out. 

He hesitantly walks over and sits next to Finnick. “Welcome to the team,” Finnick says sarcastically.

“Fuck off.”

 

* * *

 

Victoria, as it turns out, is perhaps the brightest tribute he has ever mentored. Was that just another thing that had been hidden from him? He is beginning to wonder if he'd known a single thing about his tributes.

To begin with, she seems to have a flawless sense of direction. Most of the other tributes are stumbling around in the dark, completely lost. Victoria appears to already have worked out exactly where she is, and where she needs to be. 

The first thing she does is distance herself from all the other tributes. Then, she reemerges from a cave that opens right into the slope of a large pile of snow. Louis has no idea what she thinks she is doing, but Victoria inexplicably begins to dig a hole into the side of the pile with her bare hands. The cameras flit to and from other tributes while she is doing this, but nothing else worth noting is happening. There has not been a single casualty in the games yet. Louis suspects the capitol audience is growing increasingly thirsty for blood.

Eventually, Victoria tunnels her way far enough into the hill that she can fit her entire body inside the gap. The cameras can't even spot her anymore. All that can be seen is Victoria covering up the entrance with snow from the inside, so there is only a tiny air hole available. Anyone passing by would never think that there was someone hiding in the hill. 

“What the hell is she doing?” Enoboria demands derisively. “Is she looking to increase her odds of freezing to death? Why would you bury yourself in snow?”

“She's being really smart,” Harry says. His expression is pinched as he keeps his eyes fixed on where his own shivering tributes are being shown on the far screen. “Her body heat will warm up the small space she's sitting in, and the snow will act as an insulator to keep the cold air out and the warm air in.”

Everyone in the room stares at Harry. He blushes and looks down at his feet.

“He won last year for a reason,” Johanna announces, breaking the tension. “He's smarter than all your idiotic tributes combined.”

Louis shakes his head in confusion. “How would she have learned about this? We don't even get snow in district six.”

“There are books about it,” Harry supplies.

“We're about to see our first kill!” Enoboria hoots gleefully, effectively ending the discussion. “About time! Your tributes are going down Haymitch!”

Haymitch takes a huge gulp out of a nondescript bottle as he winces at the screen. 

Louis prepares himself for watching the kill. He's not exactly a novice when it comes to witnessing the careers hunt down their weaker opponents. He is, however, rather unaccustomed to having one of his tributes on the side of the hunters rather than the hunted. 

For some reason, he had expected Richard to be more of a bystander in the killing. That had been easier for him to prepare himself for. What he had not expected was for Richard to actively participate. With several sharp swings of his machete, Richard completely severs the district twelve female's head from her neck. 

Louis swiftly swallows down the bile that has risen in his throat. He will not give the other career mentors the satisfaction of seeing him throw up. 

He has watched countless beheadings and stabbings and ruthless murders on the games. They had never been the direct result of one of his tribute's actions before. The most violent thing any of his tributes had ever done to another contestant was probably Keri dragging Diamond and Leopanine into the leach filled water. 

Haymitch stumbles out of the room as the careers and Richard laugh delightedly and exchange high fives. Louis explicitly avoids eye contact with him. Absurdly, he feels ashamed. He has never had a tribute who stood a shot before. True, he had deluded himself into thinking Keri could win, but it wasn't the same. He stares at Richard, a tribute of his who is actually an asset in a strong alliance and possesses the ability to kill remorselessly, and Louis doesn't want it. He doesn't want any of it.

He wonders if this was how his mentor had felt when Louis had became a threat in the games. He wonders if she had been caught between the obligatory feelings of gratitude that he might be able to win, and the secretly horrified belief that he was too awful a person to deserve the victory.

 

* * *

 

The night offers a brief reprise from the career mentors' endless strategizing. It is too dark and too cold for any of the tributes to do anything but huddle together and pray they survive the night. Louis seizes the opportunity to slip away and phone home. 

“What the hell is going on Lou?” are Lottie's first words when she picks up the phone. “Everyone here is freaking out over Richard. Did you know he was going to be in an alliance with _them?_ ”

“No. The prat never told me,” Louis mutters grumpily. 

“But he just _killed_ that girl. No one from district six has just...killed like that since...”

“Since me,” he says shortly. “I'm aware.”

“I didn't mean it like that Lou-”

“It's fine Lottie,” he's exhausted. He should have just used this time to take a quick nap. “Can I talk to Mom for a sec now?” 

“Yeah I'll go get her,” Lottie pauses for a moment. “I love you Lou. No matter what. You know that right?”

Louis inhales shakily. He misses his sisters so much that it hurts sometimes. “I know Lots. I love you too.”

He's passed over to his mother, who immediately begins updating him on meaningless hometown gossip. She's the best at handling him during his dark moods. She knows never to mention the games to him. 

She does, however, bring up something that catches him off guard. “I ran into _him_ last week.”

His mother is too clever to ever say his name over a possibly traced phone call. It's unlikely that it was even last week she ran into him. She's smart enough to provide a fake time frame as well. Despite the lack of clarity, Louis instantly knows who she is referring to.

“He looked exhausted. Skinnier than I can ever remember him being. Have you heard anything about him being ill?”

“You know I don't speak to him any more, Mom,” Louis says evenly, but his mind is spinning. The fact that this is the second mention of _him_ in a matter of days strikes Louis as odd. The strange capitol woman's words resound in his head.

_“The creative head of hovercraft transportation also lives in district six, am I right?”_

_“Let him know that thirteen is my favourite number.”_

What had she meant by that? It made no sense.

He hears some commotion coming from where all the mentors are still watching the games. Someone must have died. “I've got to go Mom,” he tells her resignedly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Boo,” she sighs. “Take care of yourself darling.”

“I'll do my best,” he says weakly before hanging up.

He wearily reenters the room, preparing himself for the new casualty. He appraises the screen for several seconds. Everything seems very much the same. Screen after screen shows images of various tributes huddled up for warmth. “What happened?” he asks Johanna quietly.

“One of mine and Harry's tributes just died,” she answers tonelessly.

“But they're both right there,” he points at the screen in confusion. Beth and Max are asleep, cuddled up together. 

“The cannon went off,” Johanna says in a strangled voice. “We think they must be too deep in the cave for the hovercraft to reach them. We're not sure which one of them died either because their eyes are both closed.”

“But there's no blood,” Louis says stupidly.

“Hypothermia,” Harry answers. He doesn't turn his head as he speaks, just continues to stare blankly at the screen. “It's below zero and there are no trees to start a fire. Everyone is going to freeze to death.”

Louis blinks in shock. “But...that doesn't make any sense. The gamemakers aren't going to just let everyone freeze to death. The capitol wants blood.”

“I'm betting we have a new head gamemaker next year,” Finnick says in bored voice. “The capitol's not going to like this.”

Louis walks over to where Harry is sitting, as still as a statue. He tentatively places an arm on Harry's tense shoulder. “Anything I can do?”

Harry starts to tremble. “I don't even know which one is dead. I'm just looking at them both and I don't know which one is gone and which one is cuddled up to a corpse.”

“It might be better this way,” Louis hesitantly suggests. “No blood, no pain. Dying in your sleep is the best kind of death you can hope for really.”

“There is no best kind of death!” Harry's voice is verging on hysterical. “They're twelve! They shouldn't be dying at all!”

Louis doesn't really have much to say to that, so he simply sits down next to Harry and waits with him. Hours pass. The cannons continue to sound. The girl from eight, the boy from five, the boy from nine, the girl and the boy from eleven. There is no blood, and there is no hunting pack of careers. It's the cold that takes them one by one. 

Eventually, it ceases to matter which one of Harry's tributes had died. Another cannon goes off and they are both gone. The hovercraft actually blasts apart the roof of their cave to collect the bodies. 

All Louis can think about as their tiny bodies are lifted upwards is Beth's dolls and Max's teddy bear. He pictures Harry going home and taking care of Beth's dolls for her just as he'd promised, and he almost loses his breath at the feeling of devastation that sweeps through his chest. 

Harry stumbles to his feet. “I'm going to my room,” he mutters woodenly. 

“Harry-” Louis isn't exactly sure what to say. It seems cruel to ask Harry to stay and continue watching the rest of the games but he doesn't think letting him be alone is a very good idea either.

“I'm going to go to sleep,” Harry tells him. He's got tears in his eyes. “Good luck with Richard and Victoria.”

Louis wants to follow him. He knows it would be the right thing to do. He can't though. He's got meetings with several sponsors that morning, and more strategizing with the career mentors ahead of him. He can't just abandon his tributes.

He watches Harry disappear with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

 

* * *

 

While everyone else freezes, Victoria starves.

It is clear that she is terrified of leaving her snowy hideaway for any length of time. Louis doesn't blame her for a second. She has found the perfect save haven, and if the temperature remains as it is, she could be a contender for winning simply by waiting out the games in relative warmth. 

Louis uses every penny of Victoria's sponsor money to drop food parcels right outside the entrance to her snow fort. Unfortunately, food prices are astronomically high this far along in the games, and most capitol sponsors are giving him money to use on Richard, not Victoria. It's not like she exerts much energy huddled in the snow all day though, and therefore Louis remains relatively confident that she can keep herself alive, just so long as the gamemakers don't throw in some unforeseen twist. 

The gamemakers throw in a twist. They raise the temperature in the arena.

It's actually not that unforeseen that they decided to take this step. The capitol citizens have been extremely displeased with the season. Where was the blood? Where was the murder? Where was the betrayal and backstabbing? 

“It's not just that,” Beetee (the district 3 mentor)tells him quietly as they watch the ice turn to water. “I think it's making them see the games a bit more for what they actually are. When it's all blood and drama they can see it as a show. It's as if no one involved is even a real person. But this year...this is literally just watching children die. There is nothing to distract them from how inherently wrong it is.”

Louis thinks Beetee is giving the capitol citizens entirely too much credit. “More like this season is just less exciting for them,” he says bitterly. “When has the capitol ever thought any of this was wrong? They're never going to see us as real people.”

“One day things are going to change,” Beetee says confidently. “They have to.”

It must be nice to have that sort of confidence, Louis thinks. Hope like that is the type of thing that a person can live for. It's also the type of thing that a person can die for. “Watch what you say," he hisses. “You want them to think you're rebelling?”

Beetee shrugs. It is, admittedly, extremely unlikely that the capitol will do anything to him. He's some sort of a genius, from what Louis remembers. He's very useful to them in designing...smart people stuff? Louis is not actually sure what it is he does. 

He refocuses his attention on the multiple screens. The last couple days had been nothing. Unhindered by the crippling cold, tributes were going to start pouring out of the woodwork. The careers would be on the prowl. 

Victoria has no choice but to abandon her melting safe haven and depart on a search for food. There's not much of anything available. There are a few small animals, but Victoria has no weapon to hunt with. She finds small patches of berries and gorges herself, but it is evident that she is still weak with hunger. 

The careers remain in possession of the majority of the food and resources that were provided at the Cornucopia. Not to mention the fact that he and the other career mentors have been regularly sending warm meals as sponsor gifts. 

The gamemakers arrange a feast. It's a fairly typical feature of the Hunger Games. Caesar Flickerman's voice will announce the time and location, and every tribute who is desperate enough will show up, generally only to be slaughtered by the waiting careers. 

The surviving tributes have no choice but to risk it. They are frail, starving, frostbitten and sick. They won't last another day without food anyway. They have absolutely nothing left to lose. 

The feast occurs within ten minutes of it being announced. It's another sign that the gamemakers are desperate to arrange a bloodbath before the capitol comes down on them. 

Victoria comes up with a pretty decent strategy for the feast, especially given the time constriction. She stays hidden in the caves while despairing tributes stumble towards the temptingly close food. 

It's predictably terrible to watch. District 1 begins to pound the district 10 boy with hammers, district 2 use their spears on the district 8 boy, and district 4 laughingly hack at the district 3 girl with knives. That is when Victoria takes a calculated risk. The careers are occupied, she should have just enough time to grab some food and slip back into the caves.

She made the right choice. It was the choice that Louis would have made himself. It's not enough.

Richard sees her.

 

* * *

 

She is still breathing after he has severed her arms.

She is still breathing after he has sliced through her legs.

It's Richard crushing her skull with the heal of his boot that finally brings her suffering to an end. 

Louis thinks it's Finnick who catches him when he blacks out.

 

* * *

_Her wavy jet black hair is cleaner than Louis remembers it being. Her face is still pale, but without the dirt it has become almost translucent looking. Keri smiles at him._

_“You're okay?” he asks dumbly._

_She keeps smiling at him for a second more, but her joy is rapidly turning to terror. The happy look melts off her face._

_“What's wrong?” he demands frantically. “What's happening?”_

_Leeches have started crawling up her legs. He kneels down to try to tear them off, but she screams and shoves him away. And suddenly she's not Keri anymore. She's Lottie, and she is crying for him._

_“Lou! Help me!” his sister begs him. Richard has appeared out of no where and is wildly swinging his machete at her head. Louis wants to throw himself in front of Lottie. He wants to protect her with his whole body, but there is suddenly a glass screen between them._

_His mother's voice comes from no where. “Boo bear! You have to protect her! How can you not protect her?”_

_Victoria is laughing from somewhere behind him. “Is it so bad to care whether I live or die?” she cackles at him._

_“Is it so bad Lou?” Lottie echoes._

_“Is it so bad Louis?” Richard smirks at him._

_“Is it so bad?”_

_“Is it so bad?”_

_“Is it so bad?”_

_A hundred disjointed voices join in._

_Louis screams. He feels like he might never stop._

 

_* * *_

 

When he becomes conscious again, he's under the mistaken impression that the games are over. He can't really comprehend how anything could possibly continue as normal after that. He feels like the whole world should be tilted on its axis. 

Louis still has a tribute in the games though. Richard is still his responsibility, as much as the thought horrifies him. 

The thing is, you don't kill the other tribute from your district. Even amongst the careers, it is essentially unheard of. You don't have to be in an alliance, you don't have to help each other, you don't even have to acknowledge each other's presence. But you don't kill each other. 

If Richard wins...if he goes home to district six....he will be viewed as a monster. Their district will hate him. Then Louis will have to go on the entire Victory Tour with him. Just Louis and Richard, passing through districts that will all be equally disgusted by his actions. They will replay Victoria's death to them time and time again. Louis is not sure he can survive that. 

“He will not win,” Cashmere tells him grimly. He sees it in her eyes, and in the eyes of ever other career mentor. They are on his side. They want Richard dead for _Louis'_ sake. He's not sure what to do with that information. 

Cashmere is right. The other career tributes don't say anything outright. They finish the feast, have a nice big meal, lull Richard into a false sense of security...and then they pounce.

Richard is instantaneously pinned down on all sides with a knife held to his neck. “You think it's funny?” Friesha, the female from district one, hisses. “You think it's a joke to torture and kill a girl from your home?”

Louis wonders how the capitol will react to the careers having a moral code. The reason sponsors identify so well with the career tributes is because they generally view the game with the same lack of morals. 

Landon, the boy from four, yanks Richards machete off the ground. “If you think it's so funny, then how about you live it? Every single thing you did to that girl, we're going to do to you.”

“It's justice,” Friesha affirms.

“Leave,” Finnick is suddenly at his side. “You don't need to be here for this.”

Cashmere and Gloss both nod at him in confirmation. They have matching looks of sympathy on their faces. In any other circumstance Louis might spend a bit longer hanging around to contemplate the sudden evidence that careers have the ability to feel sympathy for someone. (Do they have souls after all?)

This is not any other circumstance. He leaves immediately. No amount of career insanity will make him want to hear Richard's screams of agony. 

Louis needs to find Harry. 

 

* * *

 

He wanted a cuddle. That was all he wanted. He just needed someone to hold his hand while he broke down. He'd always tried to be there for Harry, why couldn't Harry be there for him?

Harry is lying motionless on his bed when Louis finds finds him. He doesn't even seem to hear Louis enter the room. 

“Haz?” Louis sits down on the bed and shakes his shoulder gently.

Harry smiles dopily up at him. Louis immediately knows something is wrong.

“You're high,” Louis can barely make the words come out. He can barely even believe it. He had never even considered the fact that Harry might go back to his room and take morphling.

Harry always speaks slowly, but his next few words come out about a thousand times slower than usual. “They said it would help me forget. They said it would make me happy.”

“No!” Louis is uncontrollably furious. “No! Don't you dare!”

“It worked though,” Harry beams at him. “I don't even remember what it's like to be sad.”

The hot pit in his stomach feels like it is about to explode. He can't speak to Harry, he can barely even bring himself to look at him. Instead he searches the room, efficiently confiscating ever trace of drugs he can find. 

The anger does not go away. He wants to punch something. He wants to scream. He hasn't slept properly in days, hasn't showered in just as long, he just saw one of his tributes be dismembered by his other tribute, and now the only person he needed to be there for him is high out of his mind. 

Despite his fury, he doesn't leave Harry's room. He wants to be there when he comes down. 

It doesn't take too long. He can recognize the signs of an epic crash anywhere. Harry starts to shake. The pain would be starting to come back. All of those feelings don't go away just because he downed some tablets. They were just on pause for a little while.

Harry starts to cry next. He clutches at his chest as if he literally can't take the pain. 

That is when Louis chooses to make his presence know. 

“L-louis?” Harry chokes out when he spots him. “Oh god Louis-”

“You feel this?” Louis snarls. “I want you to remember this feeling. This is how you feel after you take morphling. You will never, and I mean NEVER, do this to yourself again.”

“I-I can't,” Harry is shaking so badly that he is seconds away from falling right off the bad. “I f-feel- Oh god- w-what do I do?”

Louis wants to leave now. He doesn't owe Harry anything. He's made his point, now he should leave him to suffer the consequences of his stupid, irresponsible actions. 

He doesn't leave. It's for the same reason he can never not get attached to his tributes. The same reason he stays far away from morphling just so he can be there for his sisters. He stays with Harry because he never learned how to leave.

 

* * *

 

President Snow issues a formal apology to the capitol for the disappointing and bloodless season. He promises that there will never again be a year without trees.

Louis laughs maniacally when he hears the apology.

It was the bloodiest season Louis has ever known. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points for you if you can guess who the capitol woman at the beginning was! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think of the chapter in the comments or come talk to me/befriend me on [ tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> -Kay


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some rules are worth breaking. And some people are worth fighting for.”

_“I reckon we could sneak on one,” Louis says confidently. “It can't be that hard.”_

_Zayn's incredulous expression speaks for itself. “You trying to get us killed? Of course we can't sneak on one.”_

_Louis chooses to ignore this. No matter how disastrous Louis' plans might turn out to be, Zayn always comes around in the end. This time will be no different._

_“We've got to live while we're young Zaynie boy,” Louis tells him wisely. “Reaping is next week. Do you want to die without ever having been on a hovercraft?”_

_“Aren't you just a ray of sunshine today Lou,” Zayn answers drily. “Nothing is cheerier than talking about our hypothetical deaths.”_

_“C'mon I'm doing this for you!” Louis pouts. “You're the one who's obsessed with them.”_

_“I'm not obsessed,” Zayn mumbles, blushing. “I just think the process of designing such a powerful machine is really fascinating.”_

_Louis rolls his eyes. “Seriously, I know you want to see one. What's the point in living in district six if we don't even take advantage of how close we are to hovercrafts?”_

_“Lou,” Zayn groans. “There is no possible way for us to get on one without security noticing. They're not exactly going to just let two sixteen year olds wander in.”_

_He's slightly offended that Zayn doesn't have more confidence in his deceptive abilities. “There's an old one that the capitol sent in for repairs. No one is sure what's wrong with it, so it's just sitting alone at the back of the lot. Hardly any security.”_

_Zayn shakes his head in resignation. “This is not going to end well,” he says gloomily._

_Louis grins. That sounds like a yes to him. “This is why you're my best friend,” he informs Zayn happily._

_“Because I go along with your mad plans that are sure to get us killed?”_

_“Exactly.”_

 

_* * *_

 

When Louis had first returned home after winning his Hunger Games, there had been no greater challenge for him than walking the streets of his district. The places he used to draw comfort from suddenly made him feel alien and alone. The friends he had grown up with looked at him with apprehension in their eyes. Who could blame them? He wasn't the same person he had been. 

It's been four years since his victory and walking the streets of district six now represent a new type of horror. Louis knows he isn't simply imagining the accusatory glances coming from all directions. He is the mentor responsible for an intra-district killing. He knows he has failed his people. He has failed them, just like he has failed everyone who had ever mattered to him. 

On every capitol television station, Richard is being portrayed as a monster, and their district is being represented as the type of place that harbours killers. 

“District six, first with the cannibalism, and now with the murder.”

“District six, one of the reasons why the games are necessary.”

“District six, a perfect example of the savagery of the districts.”

“District six, the reason the capitol needs to maintain full control.”

“Who knows what District Six would do if we didn't have the games to remind them where there place is?”

Louis can feel the anger building in his district with each harsh word. At first, he cringes under the weight of a wrath that he believes is directed solely at him. Eventually, he begins to feel the force of a broader resentment.

Yes, Richard did something terrible, but he did it under the capitol's orders. Every murder that happens in the games is by the capitol's design. 

How dare they accuse the districts of savagery?

How dare they claim the reason for seventy-three years of systematic genocide is one seventeen year old boy? Slowly, Louis feels the district's anger turn away from him and towards the capitol. Whatever type of person Richard had been, he had been molded by them. He had been molded by years of watching the games. He was the capitol's creation.

These days there is something brewing that Louis doesn't quite understand. The days of lying down and letting the capitol do as they please without complaint seem to be drawing to a close. 

 

* * *

 

_He is numb._

_It's a cruel twist of fate,_ _an absolute impossibility that he is walking up the stairs to the stage in front of the Justine Building. The district six representative who draws the names can not be holding a slip with his name on it. That can't be true, because if that's true it would mean he is going to be a contestant in the games._

_That can't be true._

_Can't be true._

_Not true._

_He meets eyes with **her** across the stage and his whole body goes cold. In the sixty seconds since his name had been drawn he has already managed to block out the memory of the female tribute being chosen. _

_Louis eyes begin frantically searching the crowd for Zayn's familiar face. He doesn't know what to do, can't even begin to process this information. Zayn will think of something. Zayn will fix it. Every stupid spot of trouble Louis has gotten himself into, Zayn has always been able to fix._

_She starts to cry beside him as their names are announced to the cameras once more. “Our tributes from district six, Louis Tomlinson and Waliyha Malik.”_

_Cruel twist of fate indeed._

 

* * *

 

How exactly do you greet someone who you haven't spoken to in almost five years? Even more critical, how do you greet that person without the capitol who eternally monitor your interactions finding out you spoke?

Louis doesn't know, but now is not the time for him to be second guessing his plan. He needs to speak to Zayn, and he needs to speak to him today. 

He's being crazy and he knows it. This isn't how he acts anymore. It was Old Louis who was dramatic and foolhardy and carefree. It was Old Louis who pushed boundaries and broke rules without worrying too much about the consequences if he got caught. The person he is now is smarter. The person he is now knows how to keep his loved ones alive.

Nonetheless, here he is, kneeling in the scrapyard as he works out how to break into a heavily secured hovercraft. He's done it before, what feels like a million years ago. Surely he can do it again now, when it really matters.

The thing is, he knows Zayn. Zayn was his best friend for sixteen years, no matter how long they have gone without speaking, he will never forget how Zayn operates.

Sure, he's super important now. The creative head of hovercraft design. He's got a million minions that do his bidding, factories of fancy machinery and huge offices to work in. That's not where Zayn will do his work though. 

Zayn is an introvert. He would do his best work alone and far away from his peers. It's just a hunch that Louis will be able to find him in the same old hovercraft they had broken into as kids. The hovercraft had never been returned to working order, but instead left in the scrapyard to rust. It would be both people and camera free. The perfect place for both an introvert to work and for Louis to stage an impromptu reunion with said introvert. 

Louis takes in a deep, steadying breath. It's now or never. Embracing his inner squirrel, Louis scampers under the belly of the hovercraft and starts crawling forward. At sixteen years old, he and Zayn had squirmed through mud on a pouring Wednesday evening to find the emergency exit of this same hovercraft. They had forced it partially open with a crow bar and worked their bodies through the tiny gap. At the time, it had been one of the most terrifying things he had ever experienced.

It's much easier now, almost anticlimactic when he remembers the harrowing way he had first done it. It's dry and cold and the emergency exit opens easily. 

As he hoists himself up through the entrance he abruptly finds himself staring directly into the amused face of Niall Horan. 

Louis blinks several times. He had not factored this into his plan. “Uhhh....hi?”

“Hi,” Niall is appraising him with a look of mild curiosity. “You could have just come through the front entrance you know. I would have let you in.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Louis clears his throat awkwardly. “I didn't realize there would be a lot of people here.”

“There's not. It's just me and Zayn,” Niall says cheerfully. “I stay here while he works to make sure he remembers to eat.”

Louis shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. He has never actually spoken with Niall before. All he knows is that he was a year behind Louis and Zayn in school. He seems nice enough, probably not a capitol spy, although you can never be too safe. 

“Is Zayn here?” he asks hesitantly.

Niall nods enthusiastically. “He said I should interrupt whatever he's doing when you show up. So I can bring you to him right now!”

Louis frowns. “How did he know I was going to come?”

“Just had a feeling,” Niall says breezily as he gestures for Louis to follow him. “He's smart about these things.” 

He finds himself increasingly uneasy as he follows Niall through the winding basement engine rooms. When he and Zayn had first crept through this hovercraft four years ago, it had been rundown and falling apart. That was the reason it had been abandoned in the district six scrapyard. It had been declared impossible to salvage. 

This hovercraft looks very different. The floors and walls are clean and the engines seem to be partially comprised of pristine new parts. Someone has been putting a considerable effort into returning a capitol reject to working condition. 

“Niall...?” he begins hesitantly.

“We're here,” Niall interjects brightly. They have reached the main control room. Niall knocks on the door. “You've got a visitor Zee!”

Louis had been doing an excellent job of quelling his nerves up to this point. Now, faced with the prospect of his best friend actually being on the other side of the door, he thinks he might throw up. 

“Come in!”

Louis stumbles in as if he is in a trance. No words come out. His throat feels swollen, his tongue awkward and big in his mouth. Instead of speaking, he continues to stare at Zayn. His mother was right, he looks tired and almost impossibly skinny.

“Cameras here?” Louis' voice comes out raspy. He sounds like he's been crying, _great_.

Zayn shakes his head. “No. I mean yes. But not the capitol's. Niall has them set up so he can have a warning if there's anyone trying to get on.”

“Sneaky bastard,” Louis says weakly. “I guess that's how he knew I was here.” 

Zayn shrugs and looks down at his feet. 

“I'm supposed to give you a message,” Louis says hesitantly. “Some capitol woman...said to tell you that thirteen was her favourite number. Which is a fucking weird thing to make me pass on. But that's kind of what capitol women are like. Fucking weird, the lot of them.” 

Zayn doesn't seem to find it weird. Instead, his head has shot up and he is staring at Louis with wide, awestruck eyes. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes?” Louis says uncertainly. “I think she might have been insane though. She had tattoos on her cheeks. And she didn't want to sleep with me. All classic signs of insanity.” 

“No it's...” Zayn seems to be at as loss for words. “This is incredible.”

“Well what does it mean then?” Louis questions. He's not pleased with how obviously out of the loop he is.

“It means she's got confirmation.”

“Be more vague, why don't you?” Louis snaps sarcastically. 

Zayn looks hurt, and Louis wishes he could take the words back. “I don't have to tell you anything,” Zayn mutters quietly. “You haven't spoken to me in years.”

“You know I couldn't,” Louis is abruptly desperate. “Not after...not after everything. I couldn't.”

“She was my sister," Zayn's voice is choked. “She was my sister and I lost her. I didn't have to lose my best friend too.”

Louis refuses to cry. “I can't have friends here, Zayn. It just gives the capitol one more person to use against me.”

Zayn shakes his head. “That's not why you stopped talking to me Lou. You stopped talking to me because you didn't know how to be around me any more.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth several times. He doesn't know what to say. He feels exhausted and tearful. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly. 

Zayn inhales shakily. There's a few moments of silence before he starts to speak once more. “District thirteen. She was talking about district thirteen.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “The district the capitol destroyed?”

“They didn't destroy it,” Zayn face has lit up slightly in excitement. “We had a hunch for a while that they had just relocated underground. But this confirms it.”

“What?” Louis says blankly. “ _We_ had a hunch? Who's we?”

Zayn purses his lips together. “I don't know how much I'm aloud to say. It's a...rebellion I suppose.”

“Well they're the ones who involved me in the first place. Why would that woman get me to pass along a message to you if I wasn't supposed to know anything?” Louis' mind is exploding.

“It's really hard to pass along messages between the districts and the capitol,” Zayn explains. “Phones are all tapped so we can't use those. So think about it. Who are the only people that regularly pass back and forth between the districts and the capitol?”

Louis shakes his head, incredulous. “Are you saying that the victors are all just being used as a messaging system for some...rebellion? That's crazy!” 

“It's not a rebellion really,” Zayn continues earnestly. “We're not really ready for that...but something is building. Can't you feel it? It's not going to be long before people want to stand up and fight. We just need to be ready for when that happens. Eventually, something or someone is going to set things in motion.”

“This is crazy,” Louis repeats. “I can't believe...holy shit. And you're involved in this? The same Zayn Malik who I used to have to blackmail into breaking the rules with me?”

Zayn shrugs. “Some rules are worth breaking. And some people are worth fighting for.”

“So what's your role in this?” Louis asks, his mind whirring. “Is it something to do with this hovercraft?”

“All working capitol hovercrafts are carefully regulated,” Zayn explains. “They have hundreds of workers on them, thousands of GPS systems that would take years to completely deactivate. It's literally impossible to steal one.”

“But not this one, I'm guessing.”

“This one has been written off. It's not been considered a working hovercraft in over five years. I'm not sure if the capitol even remembers it exists.”

Louis is past astonishment at this point. “So...should a rebellion be set in motion...with this hovercraft you would...?

Zayn's voice is steely and his eyes hard as he stares at Louis. “Join forces with district thirteen.”

 

* * *

 

Harry is ridiculous. 

Every train that passes through district six from the outlying districts carries several letters from him. They're all stupid, and rarely make any sense. Louis finds himself repeatedly rereading them nonetheless.

He writes to Louis about his growth spurt ( _I'm so tall Louis, like huge, I could probably look down on you and pat your head!_ ) and he accompanies the letters with photographs of him with his sister ( _Isn't she amazing? Gem is the best I wish you could meet her she is sosososo smart!_ ) and dried flowers he finds around town ( _LOUIS ISN'T THIS SO PRETTY?? Do you have these in district six?_ )

Louis misses him more than he would like to admit. He still feels a niggling of anger directed at Harry from what had happened after the last games but he is trying to let it go. There's no point in dwelling over things that can't be changed. 

He's at the post office picking up the latest stack of letters from Harry when he runs into Niall. He tries to inconspicuously slip out before he's recognized, but Niall spots him instantly. “Louis!” He waves his arms excitedly and comes running up to him. “Hey!”

“Hi Niall,” he says reluctantly. He doesn't remember becoming friends with Niall, but based on his facial expression that's definitely what they are.

“You getting letters?”

“Yep. That's why I'm at the _post office_ ,” Louis says snidely. 

Niall doesn't seem in the least offended. “That does make sense,” he laughs. “Who are you getting mail from?”

“Just a friend,” he answers vaguely. No need to tell Niall anything more then the bare details.

“Cool. I'm just picking up some parts then heading to work,” He says brightly, pointing at a stack of metal parts taller than he is.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “How exactly are you planning on carrying that to work?”

Niall shrugs. “Someone always offers to help,” he looks at Louis pointedly.

“Do you want help carrying them Niall?” Louis asks unwillingly. 

“That would be great! Thanks!” Niall beams. 

Their whole interaction is throwing Louis off a bit. To be honest, he's not really used to talking with, well, people who are happy. He has happy moments, sure, but his relationships are predominantly based on shared grief and general sadness.

“So what exactly is your job?” He is somewhat curious as to why Niall is apparently the only person Zayn trusts to act as security inside a secret rebellion hovercraft.

“Mechanic,” Niall tells him. “It's a pretty good gig. Keeps the food on the table. My brother's got a baby coming, so I'm trying to save up.”

They are in public, so Louis doesn't ask the obvious question, which is what would happen to his brother and baby if the capitol ever finds out what Niall is involved with. 

“Cute,” Louis says instead. “When's the baby due?”

“About two months,” Niall answers. “I just wish he was going to grow up in a better world, y'know?”

Louis understands exactly what Niall is talking about, but he knows better then to agree with him. 

“He's my best friend,” Niall says suddenly, and although he doesn't turn to look at Louis or act any different, it's clear who Niall is now talking about it. A bitter, jealous part of Louis wants to argue. He wants to say _no_ , he's _my_ best friend. He knows he doesn't really have that right anymore though. “He's missed you. Don't ignore him again,” Niall continues seriously. 

“Couldn't ignore him if I tried mate,” Louis says honestly. 

Niall nods. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

Being back in the capitol is a bit of a shock to his system. He'd gotten used to waking up and having breakfast with his sisters. He had become accustomed to sneaking off to see Zayn and messing around with Niall while Zayn complained that he was trying to concentrate.

He'd had a quick glimpse of happiness, and he's not ready to have to give it up again. 

His reluctance is momentarily erased when Harry bursts into his compartment where he'd been gloomily strategizing with his new tributes. “Louis!” He bounds across the room and Louis finds himself laughing and clumsily hugging Harry back. 

His tributes are staring at them in astonishment. It's no doubt a bit shocking to watch two notorious killers squeal and dance around like little girls. 

“Look who's all grown up,” Louis teases. “Jeez you were not lying about the growth spurt were you?”

“I'm eighteen now,” Harry says importantly. “I'm a man,” he grins. “A super manly man.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course you are babe. How could I have not immediately noticed your overwhelming masculinity?”

“I have no idea how you missed it," Harry answers solemnly. “It's practically rolling off me.”

“You ready for this?” he asks in a quieter voice. “I don't want a repeat of last year.”

Harry nods seriously. “I'm ready. Nothing like last year will happen again, I promise. I won't go near that stuff,” He hesitates for a second. “Are you ready? After...you know...the Richard thing?”

Louis shrugs. “I guess. It's not likely to happen again so...”

“Definitely not going to happen again,” Benjy, his male tribute, says hastily. As the boy, he's been getting the most rude comments from capitol attendants about following in his predecessors footsteps. “Jill and I are not going to kill each other.”

Jill shoots them a slightly queasy smile. “Definitely not. I'm sure we'll get killed by one of the other twenty-two people who want us to dead.”

“Optimism,” Benjy lectures. “We've talked about this Jill.” 

“Let's go talk somewhere else,” he tells Harry. His tributes are both incredibly likeable little shits this year. He's not willing to stick around just so they can continue to endear themselves to him. 

Harry follows him agreeably. “Have you watched all the reapings yet?” Harry asks. “I almost cried when that girl from district twelve volunteered for her little sister-”

“Can we not talk about that right now?” Louis interrupts. “Just...lets be happy. I think that for as much time as we can we should try to be happy. We've already got enough sad coming up.”

Harry smiles at him like it's the most brilliant idea he's ever heard. “Okay. I have an idea.”

“Alright,” Louis will literally do anything Harry suggests. “What's the plan?”

 

* * *

 

_Louis never planned to survive._

_From the moment he came to terms with the fact that he was going into the games with Zayn's baby sister he knew that his days were numbered. His game plan, his only game plan, was to make sure she made it out._

_Zayn visits him before they depart for the capitol. They are given ten minutes to make their goodbyes. They only use two of them._

_Louis doesn't need to hear Zayn's words to know what he is thinking. He doesn't need Zayn to tell him that as much as he loves Louis, he wants his sister to win. So he spares Zayn the pain of choosing between them. Spares him the unbearable agony of deciding which life matters more._

_“I'll protect her," he says instead. “No matter what. You will see her again.”_

_Louis never planned to survive._

 

_* * *_

 

“I'm glad I've lived to see this,” Louis says, whilst desperately holding back hysterical laughter. “How have I been missing out on this my whole life?”

“I had a feeling you'd appreciate it,” Harry looks extremely pleased with himself.

“Oh- oh- she's going for the high note-” Louis announces delightedly. “Youch.”

Harry winces. “Yeah, she's rarely on key.”

Louis is still basking in the moment. Who ever would have guessed that Johanna was the type to sing dramatic power ballads in the shower? 

“Now the question is,” Louis muses, “Should I make fun of her for this immediately? Or should I keep it a secret so that we can continue sneaking in to hear her horrendous melodies on a regular basis?”

“You can't tell her we know!” Harry protests immediately. “She'll kill you!” 

“Nah,” Louis scoffs. “She loves me deep down. Very deep down. And I'm pretty sure we have an implied agreement not to kill each other.”

“Well I don't think I have an implied agreement with her, so she might still kill me. I'd rather not run that risk. Let's make our escape now.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jeez Styles, taking all the fun out of life. I've been waiting years for an opportunity like this.”

Harry grins. “You sing in the shower too though.”

Louis' eyes widen. “You take that back! How do you know that?”

“I'm resourceful,” Harry says smugly. “So we better get out of here in less you want me to bring Johanna to the Louis Tomlinson show.”

“I see how it is,” Louis shakes his head. “You've been lulling me into a false sense of security all this time. Pretending to be cute and harmless...and then BAM you're an evil mastermind.”

Harry's eyes brighten. “You think I'm cute?”

Louis' face goes momentarily hot and he quickly brushes past the embarrassment. “Good to know you payed attention to the important parts of what I was saying. Like the fact that you're an _evil mastermind._ ”

Harry preens. “But I'm a _cute_ evil mastermind.”

Louis snorts and doesn't respond (mainly because he can't think of a good comeback. Obviously Harry is cute).

Harry pauses. “Can we have a serious moment for a second?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” Harry says nervously. “I just wanted to say...you're really important to me. You've helped me learn to breathe again when I felt like I was going to die. And...with all the sad coming our way...you're the happiest part of the games for me. And I know I've probably caused you a lot of problems, so I just hope you know that I'll never take you always being there for me for granted.” 

“Wow Hazza,” Louis mumbles, trying not to seem too visibly emotional. “One second we're listening to Johanna's terrifying vocals, and the next second you're getting all mushy on me.”

Harry shrugs sheepishly. “I just wanted you to know.” 

Louis clears his throat. “Well...thank you. That's...thank you. Really.”

They stare at either silently for a moment, before realizing what the silence means. “She's out of the shower,” Harry hisses. “Evacuate now. This is not a drill!”

“Run! Run! Run!” Louis laughs as he and Harry stumble out of the room and down the hallway, never letting go of each others' hands.

 

* * *

 

_“Run! Run! Come on!” Louis shoves Waliyha ahead of him as they weave through the trees. “Now that they've heard the cannon they'll all be heading this way.”_

_Louis doesn't really have the skills to take on all the careers at once. One he'd been able to handle, but five of them could pose more of a challenge._

_He doesn't think of the dead district two boy he's left behind him. Louis can't afford guilt or second thoughts. It doesn't matter what his district thinks about his actions because he will never be going home. He will be ruthless and he will be monstrous and he will kill without remorse, just so long as it means Waliyha will return to her family._

_He's not the most talented tribute, is the thing. He has average skill with a knife from his part-time job at the butchery back home, but there is no doubt that the careers are a thousand times more talented with a weapon than he will ever be. His real advantage is that he doesn't care._

_Every other tribute is thinking about what their families and friends think of their actions. More importantly, every other tribute is afraid that they will not return to their families alive. They are paranoid and frightened and desperate to survive. Louis is not constrained by either of those things._

_There is something liberating about already knowing that he's going to die. He needs not fear death, and he needs not fear the judgement of his district._

_When they run into the giant girl from district ten, Louis doesn't hesitate before stabbing her._

 

_* * *_

 

“New district twelve stylist,” Finnick tells him. 

“Okay.”

Finnick knows the capitol gossip better than anyone. He is convinced his extensive knowledge of the inner workings of Snow's world will one day come in handy. Louis doubts this, mainly because he couldn't care less about new stylists. 

“He's strange,” Finnick continues anyway. “Apparently he's really talented, could have had any district he wanted, but he asked for twelve.”

Louis shrugs. “Maybe he just didn't want the pressure of a career district.”

“Maybe,” Finnick acknowledges. 

“Okay, what's going on?” Louis caves. He knew something was up the moment he found out that Finnick was looking for him. “I know you didn't come find me to talk about stylists.” 

“I-” Finnick seems at a loss for words. “Last night, I got a client to finish early with my sexual prowess.”

Louis frowns. “Okay? Umm...why did I need to know that?”

“No...I-” Finnick grunts in frustration. “Never mind.”

It hits Louis a second later. That was exactly what the capitol woman who had wanted him to pass a message on to Zayn had told him to tell people. “I had a woman like that last year,” he tells Finnick cautiously. “Finished early because of my sexual prowess.”

Finnick looks relieved. “Strange isn't it? We don't have that much prowess.”

“Very strange,” Louis agrees. “But good...I think.”

Finnick nods. “Very good.”

 

* * *

 

_He had told Zayn he would protect her. He had promised his best friend that his little sister would return to him. And he had failed._

_Louis can't look him in the eye, can't look anyone in the eye. Everything he'd done in the games he had done with the knowledge that he would never return home. And now he is home._

_He wants to die. Every single day he wants to die. Every single night he plans ways to die._

_He wants to forget. Every single day he wants to forget. Every single night he plans ways to forget._

_Louis doesn't think anything or anyone can ever make him want to live again._

 

_* * *_

 

“Don't you run away from me Harry Styles,” Louis threatens laughingly. “You get back here young man.”

Harry grins cheekily. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it is positively illegal for you to be carrying two brownies and not give one to me.”

Harry pretends to think it over. “Illegal? Really? I've never heard of that law before.”

“It's a new addition. You should really brush up on your knowledge of the legal system.”

“Fine,” Harry hands it over with fake reluctance. “Anything to walk on the right side of the law.”

Louis happily takes a giant bite out of the brownie. “Yummy.”

“Where were you this morning?” Harry pouts. “I was looking for you.”

“Talking with Finnick,” Louis mumbles through a mouth full of brownie.

Harry makes a face. “Love it when you talk with a mouth full of brown goo.”

“Manners are overrated,” Louis informs him. 

“What were you talking to Finnick about?”

“Top secret grown up stuff,” he answers with mock seriousness. “Too adult for your infant ears Styles.”

Harry flushes and frowns. “Fine, don't tell me.”

Louis sighs. “I'm just kidding. It was nothing important.”

Harry shrugs. “It's fine. I don't care.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Can we have a serious moment for a second?” He uses Harry's words back at him.

“Okay,” Harry answers. “I'm putting serious mode on.”

Louis takes a deep breath as he works up the nerve to continue.“You make it easier for me to breathe as well? Okay? You make me happy I'm alive. And not many people make me feel that way, so you should be honoured.” 

Harry eyes are wide as he stares at Louis. “I am. I am honoured.”

Louis smiles. “Good. I just thought you should know.”

He wants to tell Harry everything. Wants to share with him every detail about his childhood, and his games, and the terrifying rebellion he has somehow gotten himself mixed up in. There are things like cameras to consider though, so instead he just pulls Harry into a hug, and wishes he never had to let go. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I'm aware that Katniss and Peeta's games haven't even happened yet and I'm already putting in the beginning of a rebellion. But the way I see it, that rebellion must have been building up for years. For them to have the resources and manpower to get Katniss out of the games in catching fire and know exactly how/where/when to join up with district thirteen, they had to have had people in positions of power planning and making arrangements for YEARS in advance. 
> 
> Anyway...I hope you like this chapter! Sorry for the wait, I've had a shit load of school work to do (Uni is exhausting).
> 
>  
> 
> [ tumblr](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> -Kay


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has anyone ever gone with this angle before?” Louis asks. “Tragic love story?”

 The worst thing about life post games is not the devastating flashbacks. It's not the daily panic attacks. It's not even the all-consuming self-loathing that haunts him every minute. The worst thing about life post games is the complete and total loss of control over his own life.

Louis had grown up under the capitol's thumb, killed in a game of their design, and yet still it is now, after the game is over and he is supposedly 'free' that he understands what true helplessness feels like.

He's forced to leave his family and his home in favour of the capitol every year. He's forced into caring for children only to watch them die. He's forced into becoming a whore who sleeps with anyone who pays well enough.

So after that first year as a mentor, he goes to great lengths to feel like he is exerting some margin of control over his existence. When he's in the capitol he goes on exploratory day trips because they can make him leave his home but they can not make him stay in the training centre. He refuses to be overly kind to his tributes because he might be forced to mentor them but he has a choice in whether or not he cares about them. He sleeps with a slew of random people because it's _his choice_ , those people were _his decision_ and _his call_ and he might not like any of them but at least they aren't paying for him.

By the time Harry's year has rolled around, Louis is mostly done with his 'rebellious' phase. It had been reassuring, tricking himself into believing he had free-will. But the fact is, oppression isn't something that can be surmounted by some pointless gallivanting and nights of sad, depressing fucks. Oppression is something that sinks into every aspect of your life, and you can choose to believe that you have a choice, or you can accept that free-will is something you're going to have to fight for.

By the 74th Hunger Games, he's ready to fight.

 

_* * *_

 

Louis can't say that he's entirely sure what his tributes are dressed up as for the opening ceremonies this year. They are wearing the most ill fitting, hideous yellow gowns he has ever seen, and for some unfathomable reason they have each been equipped with crescent moon shaped headpieces.

Harry's brow is scrunched in confusion as he takes in Jill and Benjy's outfits. “I thought your district's theme was transportation?”

“We actually have the worst stylist in the world,” Louis says gloomily.

“My tributes are wearing paper fan hats,” Harry points out. “They're like walking origami.”

“At least it's got something to do with lumber. Trees make paper. What the hell are my tributes supposed to be? Half a hubcap?”

“What are your tributes wearing?” Johanna has appeared beside him unannounced and uninvited (her speciality). “They look ridiculous.”

“The moon is the basis of transportation.” Louis snaps. “Think about how far it moves every year as it revolves around the Earth. My tributes' moon headpieces are epic on a planetary scale, where as your tributes are walking origami.”

Harry pouts at him. “Heeeey. That was my line.”

“I know. It was very funny,” Louis placates, and Harry beams at the compliment.

“What. The. Fuck.” Johanna says tonelessly as she stares at the screen in shock. All the mentors have been watching the chariots enter the city from the privacy of the training centre, unwilling to mingle with the capitol crowds.

Louis rolled her eyes. “Don't act like you don't already know that your tributes' costume are lame-”

“They're on fire,” Harry shocked voice cuts him off mid sentence. “District twelve is on fire!”

And, _okay_ , that's a pretty cool costume actually. “I heard from my sources that they have a new stylist this year,” Louis tells Harry importantly. Johanna and Harry can just assume that he's awesome and all-knowing. Nobody needs to know that his 'sources' are Finnick and his sex crazed clients.

“You heard that from Finnick,” Johanna says in a bored voice. “Nice try though.”

The chariots pull up in front of President's mansion and the anthem begins to play as the cameras flit from tribute to tribute. “I think district twelve are getting a rather disproportionate amount of screen time right now,” Louis hears Enobaria complain loudly. “It's unfair to the other districts.”

Louis rolls his eyes at this. “I don't remember you complaining last year when the cameras only showed your district Eno,” Johanna shoots back.

“I wonder why they're holding hands,” Louis muses. “Seems kind of strange.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe they're friends. The opening ceremonies are scary. It's probably nice to have the support.”

Louis shakes her head. “Presenting themselves as a united front like that? In a game where only one survives? Seems calculated to me.”

Enobaria snorts. “I think you're giving district twelve entirely too much credit. They're not smart enough for that.”

Haymitch always seemed perfectly intelligent to Louis, albeit disgusting and extremely bad company, but he doesn't bother arguing with her. The chariots are entering the Training Centre now, and Louis stands up. “I'm going to go find Jill and Benjy,” he informs Harry, before adding in a quieter voice so that no one can overhear, “I want to ask them what their costumes were.”

“I thought they represented the moon's relationship with planet earth,” Harry quotes back at him with a smirk.

“Don't be cheeky Styles.”

Harry grins. “But what happened to _epic on a planetary level_?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go find your origami kids and stop trying to be funny.”

He exits hastily, somewhat afraid that Harry will be able to tell that he's lying. He sometimes feels like Harry already knows him too well, can read his expression with too much precision.

He's not off to commit any nefarious crimes or anything. In fact, in the past Louis never would have bothered lying about going to talk with Finnick. Now that they both know _things_ though, they feel the need to keep even their most innocent interactions private lest they somehow let something slip. Johanna is the only one who seems to have noticed something is up, and he's pretty sure she just thinks they're fucking.

Finnick is worked up when Louis meets him on the roof. It's a bit of a shock, not much visibly upsets Finnick.

“What's happened?” he asks cautiously as he takes in Finnick's twitchy pacing.

“Annie,” he says tersely. That's all the explanation that's really needed.

“She called?”

He nods. “She didn't sound good. Not herself. Something's got her upset. She wouldn't tell me what.”

“I'm sure she's going to be fine,” he begins reassuringly. “Sometimes she has bad days you know that-”

“I didn't even answer her call the first time,” Finnick's face is twisted. “I was _busy_ getting information out of some fucking capitol skank who thinks I give a shit about her. Like I could ever care about any one of these despicable people the way I care about Annie. Like that's even possible-”

“Obviously not,” Louis says evenly. “No one thinks you care about these women. I don't think it. And Annie definitely doesn't either. She understands.”

“I just,” Finnick runs a hand through his messed up hair. “I just...never mind.” Louis is relieved that the sharing portion of their day is done. Louis can't remember the last time he and Finnick had actually had an honest conversation about something that was emotionally upsetting. 

Finnick leans in slightly to murmur softly in Louis' ear, his impartial mask of indifference back on. The wind on the roof of the training centre is loud, no one will be able to overhear whispers. “Stuff's going on in district 8, apparently. Snow thinks that there are some people secretly working to undermine the capitol. He's even got some suspects. That's what I was finding out tonight.”

“That's good,” Louis whispers with as much firmness in his voice as he can muster. “We need to know things like this. I can pass it on.”

“You still meeting up with her then?” Finnick asks quietly.

Louis nods. He's seen her several times in quite a short span of time actually. Always under the premise that she is paying for his services. She never tells him much, just gives him coded messages to pass on to Zayn when he goes home, and demands any new information Finnick has passed on to him. He's recently discovered that her name is Fulvia, although he still calls her _the woman_ in his head.

“I'm going back inside,” he tells Finnick in a normal voice. “Don't worry about Annie. She'll be fine. She always is.”

Finnick shoots him an unconvincing smile that looks more like a grimace than anything else. “Of course. She always is.”

 

* * *

 

He's not expecting any ground-breaking training scores today. As far as he has observed, neither Jill or Benjy have a knack for violence or brutality. Although he's been wrong on that front before. Richard was proof of that.

Admittedly, he had expected better than a three and a four. Those are depressingly low scores. Even the tiny twelve year old from district eleven manages a seven. The girl from district twelve who had wowed at the opening ceremonies actually got an eleven, a score that was so far out of his district's reach that it was depressing just to think about it. Jill and Benjy excuse themselves immediately after the scores are given. The worst part is, they don't look so much upset as they do resigned.

“Jennifer got a two,” Harry has stomped into the room and sprawls across the couch, his body half draped over Louis. “I didn't even know it was possible to get a score that low.”

“Well Styles, I hate to be the one to say it, but I think you and I might be out of these games early this year. Not that you should take my word for it. My predictions are typically completely incorrect and my tributes tend to lie to me.”

“I've barely seen you this week,” Harry says sulkily as he curls up into Louis' side. “You're always off doing something.”

“Just arranging sponsors and stuff,” Louis says carelessly.

“You're not though,” Harry sounds upset now. “Why are you lying to me?”

“I'm not lying to you. I've just been busy.”

Harry straightens up on the couch. He's chewing on his bottom lip anxiously as he turns to look Louis in the eye. “Johanna told me what she thinks you're doing.”

Louis sighs in exasperation. “Great, I can't wait to hear what Johanna has come up with. Seriously, don't you know better than to listen to her?”

“I would rather listen to you, but you won't tell me anything,” Harry says in frustration.

“Okay lets hear it,” Louis says. “What does Johanna say I'm up to?”

Harry stares down at his feet, his expression unhappy. “She says...uh...she says you and Finnick are dating.”

Louis can barely restrain a snort. There was no chance in hell that Johanna had said they were “dating.” She knew perfectly well that Finnick was romantically devoted to Annie. “She said we were dating? Really? That was her wording?”

Harry is blushing now. It's funny, in a slightly sick way. This kid has had his body sold by the capitol, and he is still too innocent to vocalize an accusation about Louis' sex life.

“Well no...she said you were...you know. Doing stuff. In bed.”

Harry is resolutely glaring at the ground, his features scrunched up in displeasure as he stumbles over his words.

A very small part of him is happy that Harry's upset. He feels a strange thrill that the thought of Louis being with Finnick causes him so much discomfort. He realizes in horror that he wants Harry to be jealous. Immediately, he's overcome with guilt and rushes to correct it. He doesn't want Harry to be unhappy. He's never ever wanted that.

“I am absolutely not sleeping with Finnick. Johanna's just a little pervert who gets off on the mental image of a gorgeous hunk such as myself having sex. We should probably stage an intervention for her.”

Harry doesn't laugh at the joke. He is still frowning. Louis desperately wants to know what he can say to fix it and make him smile again. “But then what have you been doing this week? Why do you keep sneaking off?”

“I-” his brain is spinning as he frantically tries to come up with a plausible excuse. “The whole thing with Richard has been affecting me more than I've let on. I've just been feeling really down about going back into the games, and it's been really hard to get sponsors because everyone hates our district and just-”

“You should have told me you were upset!” Harry is rapidly back on his side, his face drawn in concern. “Actually I should have known, of course you're still upset. You don't just get over something like that in a less than a year's time. And I wasn't even there to help you when it happened last year, and I'm so sorry, but I'm here now. You can tell me anything-”

“Thanks Harry,” Louis interrupts hastily. Wow, he is going for the shittiest human of the year award. Not only is he lying to Harry, but by lying he's also managed to make Harry feel guilty. “It's my fault. I should have just told you how I was feeling.”

“What can I do?” Harry demands, his full attention focused on Louis.

“Nothing,” Louis answers quickly. “Why don't we go get some food now? I'm starving.”

“Okay!” Harry jumps up and takes Louis' hand, happy and affectionate once more. “I think I heard someone say that they're serving pudding!”

Louis looks down at their clasped hands. “What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand. I want to hold your hand.” Harry looks adorably defiant.

There are about a million reasons as to why Louis should free their hands. A thousand convincing arguments as to why they should walk down the hallway with a respectable distance between them like two normal male friends.

These reasons are all drowned out by his subconscious's angry voice saying _you're a liar Louis Tomlinson_ , _you are lying to him_ , _the least you can do is hold his hand_. And under all that is a quiet whisper of _holding Harry's hand feels nice_ and _I don't want it to stop_.

 

* * *

 

“Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”

Johanna starts laughing, doubled over as she chokes out, “That is good. I'm genuinely impressed with Haymitch right now.” Her laughter is easily drowned out by the horrified gasps from the capitol audience.

“Has anyone ever gone with this angle before?” Louis asks. “Tragic love story?”

“Not like this,” Finnick provides. “Usually it's in the arena, and an attractive tribute will flirt with everyone and make people fall for him or her to get themselves as far as they can in the game.

“I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that strategy, would you Finnick?” Johanna says sarcastically.

“Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours,” Caesar finishes up the district twelve boy's interview and the audience erupts into deafening cheers.

“This is nauseating,” Johanna declares, as the camera focuses in on the two blushing district twelve tributes.

“I don't know whether to be impressed that Haymitch came up with this strategy or annoyed that I didn't come up with it first,” Louis muses.

“Maybe he actually is in love with her,” Harry chimes in hopefully. “How do we know it's a strategy?”

Johanna and Finnick both simultaneously roll their eyes. Louis laughs. “Trust me young one, I recognize a game plan when I see it.”

“I think he looks like he likes her,” Harry says obstinately.

“He's a good actor, I'll give him that,” Louis admits.

“It doesn't really help him as a game strategy though, does it?” Finnick says thoughtfully. “It kind of puts the focus on her. The Katniss girl. She's the one with the eleven in training, and all the boys in love with her.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Johanna is bored. “I still say those two will die on the first day anyway.”

“Thanks for your input. You're always such a cheery person to spend time with,” Louis snarks.

Johanna snorts. “Are you serious? I'm a downer? Have you met yourself?”

“Louis isn't a downer!” Harry objects immediately. “He's lovely!”

Finnick shakes his head, looking like he's seriously wondering why he talks to any of them.

 

* * *

 

Jill and Benjy appear to be genuinely good people. They're polite and kind to everyone they interact with, look tearful and terrified about the games but never complain or get angry at Louis for their misfortune, and most of all they seem to support each other unequivocally. So naturally, Louis does not trust them in the slightest. Genuinely good people don't exist. Life has taught him that.

Still, he's terrified to watch them go into the games. He's ashamed of himself in a way, because this is his fifth games as a mentor, and hearing the starting gong go off still brings him the same degree of nausea and fear as it did during his first games. In fact, he thinks the games have gotten exponentially worse for him as the years pass. Because now when he watches his tributes run off their platform and into the fray, he thinks not just about them, but of Rita and Joel, Milly and Joseph, Keri and Marlon, and Victoria and Richard. He has a thousand violent memories to keep him company as he watches this new nightmare begin.

Jill and Benjy follow his game advice and run straight for the trees. Jill has made it about halfway through the clearing when the huge boy from district two catches her. The most you can hope for if you do not succeed in escaping the initial bloodbath is a quick and painless death. The district two boy does not seem particularly interested in giving her that.

He's laughing as he holds her in place. Louis can vaguely hear Enobaria cheering her tribute on from behind him. His name is Cato, Louis remembers. He braces himself for her death, knowing there is no escape from this brutish boy now that he has her in his grasp.

“Jill!” Louis had momentarily forgotten about Benjy. He appears to have almost made it to the beginning of the tree line before he spots Jill.

“No, no, no,” Louis groans. “You can't help her!”

Benjy sprints back, vaulting himself at Cato, using his entire body to try and pull him away from Jill. Cato barely flinches. Then, as if there is simply an annoying bug that he's decided to get rid of, he turns around and slashes through Benjy's chest with one quick swipe of his sword. Jill's face twists in horror and she starts to scream. It's quickly cut off as Cato turns back around and impales her with the same sword.

Barely seconds have passed, and Cato is already running back into the fray of bloody fighting. The screen switches away from Benjy and Jill's lifeless eyes. Louis continues to stare blankly ahead for several moments after. According to the timer on the bottom corner of the screen, the games started three minutes and twenty-three seconds ago. And both his tributes are dead.

By four minutes and forty-two seconds, both of Harry's tributes are dead too.

They can technically leave now, he supposes, there is no reason for them to stay. Louis feels glued to his seat though, unsure of what to do with his body.

He pulls himself out of his trance to stare at Harry. Harry looks slightly bewildered, like the deaths happened too fast for him to even process. It makes sense, his only experience as a mentor so far was from a year where almost all the tributes had slowly and painfully frozen to death over the span of several days.

He barely notices Harry standing up and walking over to tug insistently at Louis' arm. “Come on,” he sounds slightly hysterical. “I want to go. Come on, I want to go.”

Louis nods dumbly. “Alright, lets go.”

He stumbles alongside Harry as he is forcefully dragged out of the room. “I want to go see the flower garden,” Harry tells him desperately. “Lets go back there. I want to see the flowers.”

Louis shakes his head. He knows there's a reason they can't do that, he's just having trouble remembering it. He feels like there is cotton wool in his head. “We can't. There's....we're not aloud to leave the training centre while the games are on. We're technically supposed to keep watching even when our tributes are out. No one does though, and they never enforce that rule, but there's no way they'll let us leave the premises.”

“But I want to see the flowers,” Harry's upper lip starts trembling.

Louis' not sure why, but out of all the things that have happened in the last hour, this is what hurts him the most. “I'm s-sorry,” he hiccups unevenly. He realizes that his own upper lip is probably trembling at that moment as well. “W-we can't.”

“But that's not fair,” Harry chokes out. “It's not fair. None of this is fair.”

Suddenly they are both crying. There is about a foot of space between them, and they are both standing, staring at each other, arms hanging uselessly at their sides, crying like children.

Harry breaks the gap between them, stumbling forward and clutching Louis too his chest. Louis barely has time to get used to the sudden closeness before Harry kisses him.

It's not a beautiful, romantic kiss. It's chapped lips, and heaving chests, and the salty taste of their own tears. Yet it feels so painfully good to be this close to another human being. To be able to share each others pain and let it slowly fade away with each second they are pressed together. He is grounded by the way Harry is clutching at the small of his back and holding him in place. Just in this moment, everything is going to be alright.

He can't though. And that realization is heartbreaking in it's own way. Louis pulls back, and all his fear and terror returns. He's more overwhelmed than ever as he stares at Harry's tear tracked face.

“We can't do that,” Louis says. His voice sounds raspy. “You know we can't do that.”

“Why not?” Harry asks breathlessly. He's already making grabby hands at Louis, trying to pull him back to his chest. “I want to do it some more.”

“No,” Louis states, with more force this time. “We can't do that.”

Harry does not look convinced.

“I don't want to do that.”

If there was one thing he could choose to unsee in this entire god awful day, it wouldn't be the death or the screams of fear, it would be the way Harry's expression crumbles at his words.

Louis retreats to his room quickly, unable to spend another second with Harry. There was no other way, he tells himself desperately. Harry would never listen to his arguments about how they couldn't. The only thing he would accept as truth was that Louis didn't want to.

There are so many reasons they can't, and Louis is abruptly angry at Harry for not realizing these himself. Why was it his responsibility to say no?

Had Harry not heard about Finnick and Annie? Being in love with Annie was undoubtedly the worst thing that had ever happened to Finnick. The capitol uses it against him at every possible opportunity. Finnick spends every waking moment terrified for her safety. Falling for another victor leads only to pain and heartache.

Not to mention the fact that the capitol finding out Harry liked boys did not bode well for him. Although considering they probably caught that kiss on camera, it was probably already too late to worry about that.

He lies in bed all day, and the day after that, his mind on a constant replay of death, death, heartbroken Harry, death, death, heartbroken Harry. He doesn't move, doesn't eat, and makes no attempt to find out what is happening in the games.

And that is how Louis misses the first half of one of the most historic Hunger Games in the history of Panem.

 

* * *

 

There is someone knocking at his door. In his experience, that has never once meant anything good. “Go away!” His shout is slightly muffled by the way he still has his face buried in his pillow. “I don't want any bad news.”

“Let me in you arsehole,” Finnick is clearly not impressed.

“The one benefit to my tributes being dead is that I'm supposed to be able to spend the next week sulking in bed without interruption,” Louis complains loudly. “So go away.”

“There's been a rule change in the games,” Finnick announces to his closed door. “Thought you might be interested by that, but I guess not.”

Louis head perks up, and he is marginally intrigued, not that he's about to admit that to Finnick. “Probably a stupid pointless rule change anyway.”

“Two tributes can win this year, so long as they are from the same district,” Finnick tells him. Louis thinks Finnick is one of the only people he knows who has the patience to have a passive aggressive conversation with him through a door.

“Why would they do that?”

“Just come out and talk to me,” Finnick is perhaps becoming a little exasperated after all.

Grumbling the entire time, Louis slowly forces himself out of bed and marches over to open his door. “Alright. I'm up. What do you want to talk about?”

“Put a jacket on,” Finnick says briskly. “We're going to go hang out on the roof.”

The hidden message is clear enough. Finnick wants to talk where no one else can hear them. Louis is really not in the mood for one of their top secret conversations. “Can we do this some other time?”

“No,” Finnick's voice leaves no room for argument. He immediately starts strolling away, not even looking back to see if Louis is following.

Sighing in resignation, Louis jogs to catch up with him. It's probably time he gets up and stretches his legs anyway. His bed had started to mold to the shape of his body and he's pretty sure he smells. It's getting a tad concerning to be quite honest.

They climb to the very edge of the roof where the wind is at it's loudest. “They're playing up the love story. That's why there's been a rule change. I think the game-makers just want to force district twelve together.”

Louis shakes his head. “You do realize that on the off chance district twelve does make it to the final two the game-makers are just going to revoke the rule to create a dramatic finale?”

“Obviously,” Finnick answers. “I'm not stupid.”

“So what's the real scoop here?”

“Katniss, the district twelve girl, was in an alliance with the little girl from district eleven for a while,” Finnick speaks casually, but it's clear what he is saying is devastatingly important. “Girl got killed, and Katniss sang her to sleep and buried her in flowers. District eleven sent her bread as a thank you gift.”

Louis' head is spinning. Everything in that story, from start to finish, is essentially unheard of. You don't honour the dead in a game where the capitol wants everyone to die. That came shockingly close to rebellion. And he has certainly never seen a tribute receive a gift from another district as an expression of gratitude before.

“Rumours say shit is going down,” Finnick is whispering now. “District eleven mentors say that their families are terrified to say anything about whats happening back home during phone calls. It sounds like there are some serious riots happening though.”

“All just because of this one girl?” Louis is shocked. “This is...wow.”

“It's building,” Finnick whispers. “Last year the slow deaths from hypothermia were a huge eye opener. And now this...things are happening. Everyone can tell. Johanna has definitely caught on. I would say most of the mentors have. Do you think Harry's realized?”

“No,” Louis snaps. “And he's not going to find out. I don't want him getting mixed up in this.”

Finnick looks unimpressed.

“What?” Louis asks in annoyance. “Why are you giving me that look?”

Finnick shake his head. “You do realize he's not a little kid, right? He's an eighteen year old boy who won his games by killing other people, just like every one else here. I think you forget that sometimes.”

Louis doesn't respond.

 

* * *

 

He goes back with Finnick to watch the remainder of the games. Admittedly, he is curious about these 'star crossed lovers.' They must really be something if they have provided the game-makers with sufficient reasoning to actually temporarily change the rules of the game.

Within several hours he's convinced of several things. One, he had been wrong, the boy clearly did love her and it had not been just a game strategy for him. Two, Louis had been half right, because she most definitely did not love him back. Three, that boy was unlikely to make it through the night, let alone to the final two.

“This is boring,” Louis complains to Finnick. “I don't want to watch two teenagers make out.”

With his luck, this is of course the exact moment when Johanna re-enters the room with Harry in tow. “You cannot make me watch this alone,” she is telling him sternly.

Harry visibly starts when he sees Louis, before quickly looking away. “Why do either of us have to watch it again? We don't have any tributes still in it.”

“I have a feeling this is a season that we're going to want to know about,” Johanna says vaguely. Finnick had been right, she clearly has some idea about what is going on.

To avoid making eye contact with Harry, Louis focuses on the screen as if Katniss feeding Peeta spoonfuls of broth is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen in his life.

“So they can both win then?” he hears Harry ask Johanna uncertainly. “If they make it to the final two?”

“Capitol won't allow two winners,” Johanna scoffs. “It's totally a scam.”

“Right,” Harry responds weakly. Louis feels Harry walk up to him and hover by his shoulder hesitantly. “Umm Lou? Can I talk to you for a sec? In private?”

There is no privacy, is what Louis wants to say. Not unless they want to go to the roof and whisper at each other. But that in itself is somewhat suspicious. He thinks the capitol must wonder what he and Finnick are always talking about in hushed voices.

“Can't right now,” he answers. “I'm watching this.”

Harry looks at the screen. Peeta appears to have fallen asleep, and Katniss is sitting beside him doing nothing.

“Right,” Harry mutters, his voice tinged with bitterness “Looks super interesting.”

Louis shrugs, fairly sure that anything he says at this point will just make the situation worse.

“Can you just please not ignore me Lou?” Harry bursts out. “I can deal with it if you're mad at me. I guess what I did was stupid. But just please don't ignore me.”

Louis sighs. “You're right. I'm sorry. It's shitty of me to ignore you.”

“And can you tell me what's going on?” Harry continues. “Because I've been talking to some other mentors and clearly something weird is happening with these games. I want to know what.”

“Harry,” Louis shakes his head. “It's nothing. Really.”

“That's bullshit!” Harry's voice is raised, and he's angrier than Louis thinks he's ever seen him before. Come to think of it, he's probably never seen Harry angry at all.

“You've been hiding things from me ever since we got back to the capitol. I get that you think I'm just this annoying kid with a crush on you, and I can deal with that, but you don't get to blow me off and hide important information from me. Whatever is going on affects my life too.”

“Can we not do this right here Harry?” Louis asks evenly.

“I've killed people,” Harry tells him in a shaky, slightly tearful voice. “I've watched my ally die for me. I've mentored four different kids who have all been murdered. I've had my body sold against my will. I am equal to every single person here. I deserve to know things, and you do not get to brush me off.”

“Okay,” Louis finds himself saying. “Okay. But not right now. We're going to talk tonight. I promise.”

Harry lets out a long breath, as if the speech had taken a lot out of him emotionally. Then, as if it hurts to even be next to Louis for any amount of time, Harry retreats to the other side of the room.

Louis doesn't look away from the screen for the next three hours. He's afraid he might cry if he does. He's done with crying. Today is not a day for crying. Today is a day for hope.

“I like her,” he announces to the room at large. “I think Katniss Everdeen is going to win. And I think it's going to be incredible.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so for this chapter (and the whole story) I am following the events of the books, not the movies. The only part that I did take from the first movie for this chapter was district six and seven's costumes for the opening ceremony. And that was just because the books didn't mention their costumes, but the ones in the movie were too hilarious to leave out. Seriously, go google every districts costumes in the movie because they are ridiculous. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter, you were all super nice and so supportive! Please let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments, or come chat with me on [tumblr](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) if you would prefer :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are they?” he definitely sounds panicked now. “Where's my family? Where's my mom? Where are my sisters? Why is no one answering me?”

_“Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour.”_

 “What are you doing here?” Haymitch grunts.

Louis ignores the question. “What are you going to do?" he asks instead. “Do you have a plan?”

“Look kid, I'm really not in the mood for this right now.”

_In the brief seconds after the announcement, her bow is already raised and pointed straight at his heart. It's not shocking. She's the one with the fight, the one with the fire and the anger and the passion. She was always the one who would win. He was just the poor boy who fell in love with her._

“You have to have a plan!” Louis' voice is steadily rising. “There needs to be a plan. This is too much. No one is prepared for this.”

Haymitch runs his fingers through greasy hair. Louis takes a good look at him for the first time. He appears dead on his feet. Come to think of it, Haymitch had never even watched the games with the other mentors. Louis hasn't seen him in weeks. He must have been spending all his time strategizing and arranging sponsors.

He had done everything right. Been the best mentor he could possibly be. He had made every right move to get both his tributes to the end. And it still wasn't enough. Katniss and Peeta may have won the games, but they had likely lost their families and their district so much more.

_There is a pouch tucked into her belt that contains a handful of deadly berries. Louis is not expecting her to fumble for it._

_“She's going to kill herself,” Johanna voices in utter shock. “I-why? She's got it! She can't lose!”_

_“Kill herself so he can win?” Louis is equally confused. It would make sense from the boy, but not from her. She has fought so hard for the win. Sacrificed so much._

_“Someone has to win,” Harry's voice comes out of no where. He's been so quiet, curled up in the corner for the last few hours. “They can't both die.”_

_“What-?” Louis doesn't understand. And then he does._

Mentors are appearing out of no where, spilling out of the woodwork.

“What's the plan, Haymitch?” Johanna has found them.

“Where do we go from here, Haymitch?” Finnick asks.

“District eleven is rioting.” Chaff has joined them.

“District nine are setting their factories on fire,” Cecelia chimes in.

“What's the plan?” Louis repeats.

_“One.” Finnick has his face buried in his hands. Harry is chewing on his bottom lip so much it's started to bleed. Each and every mentor is stunned into silence._

_“Two.” These kids do not realize what they are doing. If their plan works it will be the biggest act of rebellion to have ever happened in the history of the Hunger Games. There will be no going back from this._

_“Three.” Louis can barely watch. Maybe it won't work. Maybe the capitol will just let them die. It would be quite the message to send to the districts._

_They raise the berries to their lips._

“They're just stupid kids,” Haymitch is pacing. “Stupid kids who are so ridiculously in love that they couldn't bare the thought of living without each other. That's what happened. That's the story.”

“Are you serious?” Johanna scoffs. “That girl is not in love.”

“To the capitol she is in love,” Haymitch snaps. “And for every single interview you have, you will mention how in love they are. You will rave about their beautiful, enviable relationship to every important figure you have ever met.”

“Why should we?” Finnick asks cautiously. “Isn't this what we've been waiting for? The spark that incites change?”

“A spark can't incite change if it gets snuffed out before it can catch,” Haymitch hisses. “So, I repeat, they are stupid kids who are so incredibly in love that their lives are meaningless without their other half.”

Haymitch is an alcoholic. Almost every conversation Louis has ever had with him has been crude and meaningless. There is no reason for them to all listen to him.

They do anyway.

“Stupid kids,” Cecelia smiles convincingly. “So in love that they would do anything to stay together. It's beautiful.”

_“Stop! Stop!” Claudius Templesmith's voice booms out over the loud speakers. Louis lets out a shaky breath. It worked. It actually worked._

_“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!”_

_Some mentors are crying. Most are frantically placing calls home, trying to verify that their families are safe from any rioting._

_Louis keeps his eyes tightly squeezed shut. He's not prepared for the new world that might greet him when he finally opens them._

 

_* * *_

 

“But I always have to go to the closing ceremonies,” Louis says blankly. He doesn't enjoy it, in fact he despises it, but it's his responsibility as a mentor. The closing ceremonies are a mandatory event that he has attended every single year since he won his games.

“The mentors are not to attend the closing ceremonies this year,” The capitol attendant repeats without expression. “You are to remain in your living quarters for the duration of the event.”

“Fine,” he says curtly. “It's not like I enjoy going to them anyway. A three hour recap of the games? No thanks. I already watched them the first time.”

He briskly marches past the man, keeping his face purposely devoid of shock or confusion. He already has several ideas as to what this means, he just needs confirmation.

Louis locates Finnick in record time. “When's the last time you had sex?” he demands.

“Hello to you too,” Finnick responds drily. He had been talking with Johanna and Harry, who are now both looking at Louis like he has lost his mind.

“Because I haven't had sex since before these games started,” Louis continues heedlessly.“I've not had any clients, and the capitol haven't sent me to any parties. My tributes were both out the first day, I have had zero responsibilities in these games, and yet they haven't bothered putting me to work?”

Finnick's eyes widen. “Me neither...I....I didn't even think about it. I was just grateful I was getting a break.”

“Harry?” Louis turns to him.

Harry shakes his head. “I just thought maybe nobody was asking for me.”

Louis is certain now. “They're restricting our contact with the outside world,” he says grimly. “Stopping us from talking to anyone in the capitol, making it so we can't say or hear anything problematic.”

“Shit,” Finnick swears. “Already? That's not good for us.”

“I think the real question is how long before they start restricting our contact with each other as well,” Johanna says darkly. “Are we not allowed to go to the closing ceremonies because we might talk to capitol citizens? Or are we not allowed to go to the ceremonies because we might talk with other mentors?”

“Or are we not allowed to go the ceremonies because we might talk to Katniss and Peeta?” Harry adds speculatively.

They are all silent for a moment as the implications sink in. “How can they stop us from eventually meeting Katniss and Peeta though?” Louis asks. “Next year they're going to be mentors.”

“I can think of one way to prevent us from ever meeting them,” Johanna mutters.

“But the capitol doesn't kill disobedient victors,” Finnick argues. “Murder their entire families as a message? Yes. Kill the actual victor? No.”

“This is a little more extreme than anything a victor has ever done before though,” Johanna hisses. “This isn't a tiny act of rebellion. What they've done is big.”

Louis shakes his head. “There's nothing we can do right now. We just have to hope that she can pull off the 'crazy in love' defense. If she can keep herself alive until-”

“Until what?” Johanna demands. “We have no idea what's happening. What is the end goal here?”

Louis believes he might know. He thinks back to his first conversation with Zayn in the hovercraft. He'd discussed joining up with district thirteen. That must be the end goal, right?

“It doesn't matter,” Finnick says firmly, taking charge. “We just need to believe that there is an end goal. That someone has a plan. And in the meantime we have to do everything we can to support their epic love story.”

“So I get to spend the next few months gushing over a relationship between two stupid teenagers,” Johanna responds gloomily. “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

 

* * *

 

He's been counting down the days until he gets to return to district six. Words cannot describe how much he needs to see his mother and sisters. More than anything, he needs the reassurance that they are safe.

None of the mentors have been permitted to make any calls home. They have been more or less grounded since Katniss and Peeta's victory. All phone and travel privileges have been revoked, and Louis is developing anxiety from being so disconnected from the real world.

Nonetheless, the thought of leaving the capitol is nerve-wracking in it's own way. If he leaves now, who knows what he will return to? The thought of saying goodbye to Harry, to Finnick, even to _Johanna_ , when their futures are in a place of such turmoil...it's worrying to say the least.

He goes to find Harry, in the hopes of receiving...what? Forgiveness, perhaps. Or redemption. Maybe all he really needs is a goodbye. Just in case.

Harry is in his room stuffing a wad of crumpled up shirts into a suitcase when Louis finds him. “Hey Styles,” he says weakly. “Excited to see your mom and sister again?”

Harry looks up and smiles slightly. “Yeah. It'll be good to see them.”

Louis pauses, unsure of what to say next. “Look, Harry. I'm sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you. By saying...what I said. I-I wish I knew how to fix it.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Louis is surprised by the dead honesty in Harry's tone. “I don't blame you for anything.”

“You don't?” Louis asks uncertainly. “Because I can understand how you could be-”

“I don't Lou,” Harry shakes his head. “Our lives aren't silly love stories where we can do as we please and everything works out for the best. None of us is going to get happy endings handed to us. This is the world we live in. If we want something good, we have to fight for it. And nothing about that is your fault.”

“You should have good things, Haz,” Louis manages to choke out. “You deserve so much better than the hand that's been dealt to you.”

“So do you, Lou,” Harry says seriously. “You're better than all of us. If the world was fair, your life would be so different.”

Louis clears his throat. “I don't know if I'll be able to call you when I'm back in district six. It depends on whether they give us back phone privileges or not.”

“Than I'll see you next year,” Harry says firmly, as if saying it with enough strength will mean it has to be true.

“Yeah. I'll see you next year.” He briefly clasps Harry's hand before drawing back. There are no tears or desperate hugs. Louis thinks they have both realized the utter pointlessness in crying. Crying does absolutely nothing to change anything.

His eyes are dry as he leaves the room without looking back.

 

* * *

 

It's the smell that hits him first. Something is rotting.

“Is that-?” He coughs into his sleeve. They still haven't let him dismount from the train. “What is that?”

In the arena, corpses are removed immediately. The tribute's heart stops, the cannon goes off, and the hovercraft comes to collect the body. The games never prepared him for this. They never prepared him for the putrid smell of rotting flesh.

Peacekeepers engulf him from all sides as he slowly disembarks from the train. He hadn't even realized district six contained this many peacekeepers. “Believe it or not, I know how to walk down a set of stairs by myself,” he snaps to hide the building terror.

There are at least three bodies hanging in front of the Justice Building. Louis thinks they might be male, but there is so much decay and ripped flesh that it is difficult to be sure. “Who are they?” It takes every margin of self control he has to hide the panic in his voice.

No one answers him.

“Who are they?” He definitely sounds panicked now. “Where's my family? Where's my mom? Where are my sisters? Why is no one answering me?”

“We are to escort the victor to his home,” one of the peacekeepers drones monotonously.“We are not to make any unnecessary stops, nor are we to converse with the victor.”

“Are my family at home?” Louis pleads. He is not beyond getting down on his knees and crying at their feet if he has to. “Just tell me if my family is alright.”

“We are to escort the victor to his home,” the man repeats dully. “We are not to make any unnecessary stops, nor are we to converse with the victor.”

There is nothing he can do but keep walking forward. He takes in the ransacked town square with a sense of detachment. The ground is stained with blood.

The blinds of every house on victor lane are drawn shut. His own home looks dark and uninhabited. All the fight is abruptly sucked out of Louis as he stares at his seemingly lifeless street. Every thought of rebellion evaporates from his mind. If his family is dead, he will die too.

“You killed them?” The words don't sound like his own. His voice is warped. “How could you kill them? Daisy and Phoebe are seven years old! They did nothing to you!”

The blood is pounding in his ears so loudly that he's not completely certain of what is happening any more. He vaguely feels two peacekeepers hoist him up on either side and shove him bodily through his front door, before slamming it behind him.

He falls to the ground and lets his face rest against the grainy carpet of his entrance-way. Louis has no real urge to lift his head and take in the emptiness of his house first hand. “Mom?” He croaks pitifully. “Lottie?”

“Lou?” Someone whispers in his ear. Little hands try to lift up his head. “I think he's hurt Mommy.”

“Daisy?” He scrambles up and yanks her into his lap. “Daisy!”

She doesn't hesitate before burying her head into his shoulder and wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. “I didn't know if we were ever going to see you again,” she sniffs.

“Louis!” His mom runs into the room with Phoebe and Fizzy at her sides and abruptly bursts into tears. “Oh baby, you're alright!”

“You stopped calling!” He can tell Fizzy is trying to sound angry, but she fails spectacularly as she ends up launching herself towards him and curling into his side.

“They wouldn't let me,” he murmurs into her hair. “They wouldn't let any of the mentors call home after what happened.”

“What was it like in the capitol?” Fizzy asks with wide eyes. “Was it really crazy?”

“Not really,” Louis answers hesitantly. “I mean it's the capitol. There's hardly going to be rioting in the streets. What about here? I saw-I saw bodies.”

Fizzy trembles slightly as she answers. “Everything went insane after the berry stunt. We were all watching the finale in the town square, mandatory viewing...you know. And then when they announced them victors...”

“It was madness,” his mother takes over when Fizzy is no longer able to continue. “The peacekeepers were just shooting aimlessly into the crowd. But there weren't as many of them as there are now, so we were winning. I had Daisy and Phoebe with me, so I picked them up as best I could and we hid in Mrs. Jones' basement for a few days until it was safe for us to come out. We'd lost Lottie and Fizzy in the crowd...I had no idea if they were okay or not.”

“Where is Lottie?” Awareness dawns on Louis. “Why isn't she here?”

“She's fine,” Fizzy says quickly. “When the rioting started we didn't know what to do. They were shooting right at us but we couldn't get out of the crowd because everyone was so big and they were all pushing and screaming. Zayn saw us though, and he pulled us out and we camped out in one of the factories for a few days.”

“It's not safe to leave the house,” his mother frets anxiously. “The peacekeepers specifically told us to not show our faces in public. They're afraid the families of victors might provoke the people. But Lottie is always sneaking out. I wish I knew what she was doing.”

“So has everything calmed down now?” Louis asks cautiously. “The capitol sent more peacekeepers over, and they're keeping things under control?”

“No,” Daisy pipes up from her place on his lap. “There's fighting every night.”

His mother nods in confirmation. “The peacekeepers came in and did a public hanging of three town officials that they said were the “instigators” of the riots. I think they thought it would scare everyone into submission but-”

“It's just made it worse,” Fizzy finishes. “There are riots late into the night every night now. We've boarded up our windows and keep all the doors locked at night. As soon as we hear it starting we hide in the basement.”

“They don't have enough peacekeepers to control us,” his mother says shakily. “Our population is large and angry. And the capitol has to divide its forces amongst twelve different districts. They might be able to keep some of the smaller districts quiet...but...”

Louis shakes his head in shock. He had imagined a lot of different scenarios that he might face when he returned home. Even his imagination had not prepared him for this. “Does our phone work?” he asks his mother.

She nods. “Yes, I think so. Not that it did us much good when you stopped calling.”

“I'm going to try calling some friends,” Louis tells them. “See what it's like in the other districts.”

With Daisy, Phoebe, and Fizzy curled up around him, he begins with placing a call to Finnick. District four is a strong, career district. In Louis' mind, they are the least likely to have revolted, and therefore Finnick is the most likely to answer his phone. Yet it rings for several minutes without answer.

Next, he calls Harry. When that achieves the same result, he tries Johanna. All his efforts prove futile, and he reluctantly concludes that either his phone line is not working, or district seven's phone lines are not working.

“No answer?” His mother tries to keep her tone casual, but he can still detect a note of fear. It was one thing when it was just their district, but the notion that it's actually multiple districts rebelling strikes dread on a broader scale.

“Don't worry mom,” he says soothingly. “Their phone calls are probably just restricted. Harry and I already had a feeling this would happen. It's nothing to panic about.”

She inhales shakily. “What's going to happen to us Lou?”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he forces out the only honest answer he has. “I don't know.”

 

* * *

 

By the end of the month, the fighting has quietened. Even the fury of their district cannot sustain more than a month of rioting without purpose or gains. The sudden calmness is almost worse. Louis does not for a second think that his district has stopped rebelling. Rather they have come to the realization that there is a time and place for their rebellion. They are building towards something.

His people tell him nothing. It's not that they think he is aligned with the capitol. Louis is fairly certain that his district knows he would like nothing better than to see Snow overthrown. He believes the main reason they go silent around him is that they know he is the most likely to be taken and tortured for information. As a victor, he has too much close contact with the capitol to be trusted.

He understands this, and does not attempt to push for information. “You would tell me if you were ever in danger though Lots? Right?” Louis asks Lottie one day. He knows that she is involved in something, and as much as he would love to stop her, he also knows that her anger will not be curbed or thwarted by an over protective older brother. She has spent her whole life watching her family, friends and district victimized by the capitol. Now, for the first time in her life, she is in a position where she can fight back.

“Sure Lou,” she answers easily. “Course I would tell you.”

He's not sure he believes her.

None of this is to say that he's not keeping himself busy while home. He spends every day with Zayn, barely even bothering to hide his comings and goings anymore. Louis thinks most of the cameras the capitol used to spy on them were smashed during the rioting anyway.

Zayn has finally developed a method of communicating with his allies in other districts. He receives coded messages on a transmitter located in his hovercraft almost every day. It's through him that Louis discovers what is most likely going on with the mentors in other districts.

“District four is quite bad,” Zayn updates him. “Or good I guess. Depending on your perspective. They've got organized rioting going on constantly. The peacekeepers are barely controlling the situation. I couldn't tell you where Finnick is if I wanted to.”

“Okay,” Louis rationalizes. “That's not terrible. District four is strong. If any district could handle a full fledged rebellion it would be them.”

“District Seven's more low key,” Zayn continues. “Minor rioting, some shootings in the square...but no organized rebelling on a district wide level. I wouldn't worry too much about your boy. I've heard that all the district seven mentors are safe.”

“He's not my boy,” Louis responds quickly, although he still finds himself slumping in relief. “That's good though. Or is it bad? I still haven't quite figured out whether to be relieved or disappointed that a district is not rebelling. It's confusing.”

Zayn nods in agreement. “We want rebellion, but we don't want anyone getting hurt. So I think it's justified to be both pleased _and_ upset by any news of fighting.  And then both relieved _and_ disappointed when there is no fighting.”

“We're very complicated people, aren't we Zayn?” Louis says in his best pretentious voice. “So many complex emotions.”

“Oh shut up,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” Louis chuckles. “While we're talking, can you remind your friend Niall that Lottie is only sixteen? I keep seeing them together.”

Zayn frowns. “I really doubt there's anything going on Lou. Niall's not the type to sleep around with under-aged girls.”

Louis snorts. “I wasn't accusing him of sleeping with her you arsehole. Although thanks for putting that thought in my mind. I meant that they're probably both involved in the weird little people's rebellion, and he should remember that she's only a kid, and make sure to keep her out of too much danger.”

“Weird little people's rebellion?” Zayn quotes back at him. “You have such a way with words Lou.”

“Well what else am I supposed to call it? It's not like anyone has told me what they're actually up to. I don't suppose you have any idea?”

“No,” Zayn responds. “At this point I'm more involved in the political side of the rebellion on a Panem wide scale. I don't really know what the people are actually doing-”

“Panem wide scale,” Louis mocks. “Aren't you important.”

“I just mean that it's dangerous for any one person to know too much. They don't tell us about what they're up to for the same reason we don't tell them about what we're up to. It's risky to put all your eggs in one basket.”

“I know that,” Louis complains. “That's why I haven't even asked Lottie any questions. But Jesus Zayn, she's _sixteen._ ”

“You were sixteen when you had to compete for your life in the games,” Zayn reminds him. “There's no such thing as too young in this world.”

“Well there should be,” Louis mutters. “There really should be.”

 

* * *

 

Months pass, and the Victory Tour begins. 

As a mentor, Louis is always expected to watch the speeches in his district, and then attend the formal dinner afterwards. It's usually where he meets that year's victor for the first time. It was how he had met Harry for the first time.

He's not altogether surprised to find out, however, that this year he has been asked not to attend. He's not surprised, but he is disappointed. He had so many questions for Haymitch. The only district that Zayn is not in contact with is district twelve. He really wishes he could find out what their living conditions had been like for these past several months. 

He watches the speeches start on television with Daisy and Phoebe at this side. Fizzy is anxiously staring out the window the whole time, and Lottie is suspiciously absent. 

Katniss and Peeta present a clearly scripted thank you to district six. It's not them that Louis finds himself watching though. The crowds in the town square in front of the justice building are eerily quiet. He had expected yelling and rioting and screams of support for the Mockingjay. Instead, he is witnessing a well behaved mass of spectators. 

The evening celebration begins, and the crowds slowly dissipate from the town square, still ominously calm and organized. 

Louis looks back over to Fizzy, who is violently chewing on her nails as her eyes never leave the window.

“What's going to happen Fizz?” Louis demands, as realization washes over him. “Tell me now Fizzy.”

She shakes her head, looking close to tears. “I can't. Lottie said I can't.”

“Is something bad going to happen Fizz?” he asks carefully. “Do you think Lottie could be in trouble?”

“I don't know,” she starts to cry. “She said I can't tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Louis tries to breathe calmly. “You don't have to tell me what's going to happen. Just tell me where, how about?”

Fizzy starts to cry even harder. “No. It'll be worse if I tell you where. Then you'll go there, and you'll die.”

“Die?” Louis swallows. “Fizzy you have to tell me where Lottie is right now.”

“Town square I think,” Fizzy chokes out. “Please be careful Lou.”

He pulls his shoes and jacket on as quickly as he can. His mom comes out of the kitchen and stares at him. “What's going on Lou?”

“I'm going to get Lottie,” he says shortly as he sprints out the front door.

He makes it to the town square in a few short minutes, and looks around frantically. The train that had carried Katniss and Peeta is already gone. They had probably just departed for district five. Did that mean nothing had ended up happening?

He doesn't even see it when it happens. But he feels it. The explosion rocks him to his very core and sends him tumbling to the ground. The whole world feels temporarily off its axis, and his ears are ringing acutely from the loudest BOOM he has ever heard. 

Louis tastes blood in his mouth as he scrambles to his feet. There are people bursting out of houses, rushing into the streets. None of them seem surprised. They had been prepared for this. 

Louis is having trouble regaining his sense of balance. What is happening? What was that explosion? “W-what?” He woozily asks the boy standing next to him. “What exploded?”

“The Justice Building!” The boy laughs giddily and points in front of them. The Justice Building is a smouldering wreck.

“Oh god,” Louis whispers, because he understands now. Hundreds of extra peacekeepers and capitol defence officials had been sent in expressly for Katniss and Peeta's visit. They had been reinforcements in case anything got out of control during their victory speech. And when Katniss and Peeta had left, they had all gone back into the Justice Building, preparing for the train that would soon transport them to district five as well. 

There is a group of people converging in front of the ruins. One is holding a megaphone. “There has never been Justice for us!” the man shouts, and it vibrates through every bone in Louis' body. “They bring our children up in front of this 'Justice' Building and select them to die. Our people have been hung and shot and victimized in this very spot. Today, we reclaim our rights as the people of district six!” 

The chanting slowly begins, and swells louder and louder. “We want justice! We want justice! WE WANT JUSTICE! WE WANT JUSTICE!”

Through a gap in bodies, Louis can just make out Lottie. Her face is streaked with mud and soot, but she looks gloriously triumphant. “WE WANT JUSTICE!” she screams into the megaphone, and the people cheer back. 

Taking in the expressions of elation and genuine fury all around him, Louis truly understands for the first time. This is no longer just a rebellion, it is an uprising. And his people are not just fighting, they are  _winning._

 

_* * *_

 

**_Transmission #13_ **

**_Sent from: District 11_ **

**_Intended for: District 6_ **

 

_Rioting in the town square provoked by the Mockingjay's speech to dead tributes' families. At least sixty citizens were killed. Hundreds of injuries. Peacekeepers are currently still in control._

 

**_Transmission #23_ **

**_Sent from: District 10_ **

**_Intended for: District 6_ **

 

_Rioting began following the Mockingjay's speech. At least ten citizens were killed. Dozens of injuries. Peacekeepers remain in control._

 

**_Transmission #32_ **

**_Sent from: District 9_ **

**_Intended for: District 6_ **

 

_Three buildings set on fire following the Mockingjay's departure. The mayor has been killed and the whereabouts of his family are undetermined. Peacekeepers remain in control in some parts of town, and in other parts the citizens have taken command._

 

**_Transmission #39_ **

**_Sent from: District 8_ **

**_Intended for: District 6_ **

 

_There was an organized attack on peacekeeping forces following the Mockingjay's departure. Hundreds of both citizen and capitol casualties. Citizens are currently in control of the entire district._

 

**_Transmission #46_ **

**_Sent from: District 7_ **

**_Intended for: District 6_ **

 

_Upon the Mockingjay's departure, victors lead the rioting. Many buildings have been vandalized, and several capitol trains were destroyed. Multiple peacekeeper casualties. Whereabouts of district seven mentors are unknown. Peacekeepers remain in control of the district._

 

**_Transmission #57_ **

**_Sent from: District 6_ **

**_Intended for: District 3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11_ **

 

_Justice Building was blown up following the Mockingjay's departure. Hundreds of peacekeepers and capitol officials dead. No known citizen casualties at this time. The citizens have taken partial control of the town although fighting is expected to continue._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so basically my thought process with the rebellion is that district six actually have an advantage over some of the other districts in that their children are being raised to work on complex transportation machinery. It's not that I think they are necessarily smarter than the people in other districts doing lumber or agriculture because there are no doubt a lot of smart people that do those things too, but I would say they are probably better EDUCATED. And that probably makes all the difference when it comes to actually organizing an attack as opposed to just rioting. Anyway you probably don't really care, but I just thought I would go over my thought process anyway. 
> 
> Ermmm yup thats it. As per usual pleeease leave comments or come talk to me on [tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But not a single moment of the rest of his life, not his body being sold or his tributes being killed or his sisters begging for food, not a single moment will ever feature in his nightmares as much as that one.

Somewhere in the distance, Louis can hear a baby crying. It wails and wails, unwilling or perhaps simply unable to be soothed. Louis thinks it's a fitting background noise to their district's current condition.

“I'm hungry Lou,” Daisy's voice is frail as she weakly snuggles closer in to his side. “Where's the food?”

He knows that Daisy and Pheobe understand hunger the least. They had only been toddlers when Louis had won his games, and had thus spent the majority of their lives on the receiving end of Louis' victor winnings. Hunger, cold, and illness were an unfamiliar and frightening new addition to their worlds.

“We'll eat soon Daise,” Lottie murmurs.

“Just a little bit longer,” Fizzy adds encouragingly. “You're being very brave.”

“Am I being brave too?” Pheobe whispers from her place at Fizzy's side. “I've not eaten either.”

“You're both being very brave,” Louis affirms. “I'm super proud of all of you.”

Louis notices a disturbance near the front of line. The sound of the baby crying grows increasingly loud.

“He's hungry goddammit!” Louis bites back a groan as he recognizes Niall's angry voice. “My nephew's just a baby, and you're all letting him starve!”

Louis wills Niall to shut his mouth and quell his anger. Provoking a peacekeeper in this scenario would reap no rewards.

“Tell him to shut his gob and get on his whore of a mother's teet if he wants food. It ain't our job to feed no screeching baby.” The new head peacekeeper towers over Niall.

“His mom can't feed him because her body's too starved to produce milk.” Niall is unsurprisingly not backing down. Louis can't imagine the horror of standing by helplessly while a newborn starves to death. He cannot fault Niall for trying to do something, and yet he stills mentally pleads with him to step back and be quiet.

“You got no place to complain boy. Your people killed hundreds of our peacekeepers. You're lucky we're giving you any food at all,” The peacekeeper snorts.

Louis focuses on a point far off in the distance and tries to think of nothing. After the explosion of the Justice Building, their district had been briefly triumphant. Then came the capitol's rebuttal. Bombs dropped on the market, on the mayor's house, on every important factory and shop in the entire district. Thousands dead. No food, no clean water, no medicine.

The capitol has them firmly under control now. Their only access to food comes from small weekly rations. You can't bite the hand that feeds you.

“Just a bit of milk,” Niall is verging on pleading now. “Just a little bit of milk and some bread. Please.”

“One less screaming baby in this disgusting district seems like a good thing to me,” the man smirks maliciously. “Head home boy. There's no food for you today.”

“No!” Niall charges forward. “You can't do this!”

The peacekeepers baton connects with Niall's skull. Suddenly there are dozens of uniformed guards converging around Niall. Sickening cracks ring across the square as their feet repeatedly make contact with his motionless body. Blood seeps into the cracks in the pavement.

Lottie jolts forward with a choked sound of anguish, completely ready to throw herself into the fray. Louis grabs her and shoves his sweaty fist into her mouth as she struggles and screams silently. “There is nothing you can do.” He hisses.

“Jay Tomlinson!” The woman handing out food calls.

“Come on,” Louis gestures his family forward. “That's us.”

He keeps Lottie clamped to his side as he collects their small parcel of rations. “He's my friend. He's my friend.” She repeats helplessly as she frantically tries to squirm out of his grip.

“Pick smarter friends,” Louis snaps as he tugs Lottie forward. His mother hastily scoops Daisy into her arms and Fizzy takes a hold of Pheobe's hand as they make a quick departure.

As the baby's cries slowly fade off into the distance the only thing Louis can picture is a head of blonde hair stained red with blood. Just one more image to add to his nightmares.

 

* * *

 

“How could you?” A week passes before Lottie finally confronts him. For days she has been silent, refusing to leave her room, giving most of her meagre food portions to her younger siblings.

“How could I stop you from getting yourself killed you mean?” he responds coldly. “I found that I could do that quite easily actually.”

“How can you not care?” She sounds somewhat desperate for the answer. “How can you just watch things happen...and not try to do anything to stop it?”

“Because most of the time there is nothing I can do to stop it," he tells her honestly. “And there is nothing you could have done either.”

“But I could have tried,” she says bitterly. “What do you thinks happened to him now? Is he dead?”

Louis shrugs dismissively. “Or an Avox maybe.”

“You're doing it again,” she says angrily. “Acting like it doesn't matter. Like his life means nothing.”

“There. Is. Nothing. I. Could. Have. Done.” Louis enunciates with precision. “Me caring about his life changes nothing.”

“He's twenty years old. Grew up in that little red house near the train tracks. His mom died giving birth to him.” Louis shakes his head, hoping she will stop. Lottie relentlessly forges onward. “His older brother Greg essentially raised him. He's Niall's biggest idol, and the one person he loves more than anyone in the world. He would do anything for Greg's family and thinks Greg's son is the most perfect baby on the planet. He's had a crush on this girl who lives down the street from him since they were kids but he's never told her. He was so excited to get to work with Zayn the first time because he thinks he's a genius, and admires his work so much. He-”

“Stop,” Louis finally snaps. “Stop it, Lottie.”

“He was a person!” She's yelling now. “He _is_ a person! His life matters!”

“Of course his life matters!” Louis yells back. “Everyone's life matters! That doesn't mean we can save them!”

“We can try!” She starts to cry, and Louis' heart constricts.

“Lottie-” He reaches a hand tentatively forward.

“I care so much,” she whispers. “And I hate them so much for everything they've done. It's all I think about.”

“Lottie,” he tries again. “I-”

“We can fight.” Her eyes are teary but her expression is resolute. “We've not lost, Lou. This isn't over.”

He feels an overwhelming sense of loss as he stares into his younger sister's eyes. “It feels over sometimes.”

“Well you shouldn't think that. Because it's not over for me, or for our district, or for Panem. This is just the beginning. We're never going to stop fighting. Not until we win.”

In that moment she doesn't sound like a sixteen year old girl. She sounds like an old woman who has already survived years of unimaginable hardships. “I don't really know anything about you, do I?” Louis ponders incredulously. “You've got this whole story...all these secrets, and challenges, and tragedies that I've never even realized existed. How could I have missed that?”

She smiles tearfully, and he thinks he may just be forgiven. “We've all got secrets Lou. You especially. I can't even imagine what goes on in your head most days.”

“That's probably for the best,” he says with a faint chuckle. “It's not exactly sunshine and daisies up here.”

They are both silent for a long moment.

“I'm afraid,” he begins hesitantly. “I'm afraid that there really is going to be nothing I can do in the end. That I'm going to be off in the capitol when something bad happens to you lot. Completely powerless.”

“But I'll be here,” she says firmly. “Even when you can't be. I'll always be here, and I'll always fight for them. For Mom, and for Fizzy, and for Daisy, and for Phoebe. I've got this, Lou. I promise.”

He knows that in the long run, if a bomb drops, or a peacekeeper gets angry, or the capitol stops sending food...there will be nothing Lottie or anyone else can do. And yet as she stares at him determinedly, he believes that she would do everything within her power to find a way to save them.

 

* * *

 

The quarter quell had not even been on his radar. He's been anxious about the rebellion, about access to food, about his starving sisters, and his terrified mother. He's worried about Zayn and Harry. He's worried about clean drinking water and capitol bombs. He has never once worried about the quarter quell.

Still, he watches the reading of the cards like everyone else in his district. He waits to hear what the “theme” for this quarter quell would be. Something horrific no doubt. Maybe triple the amount of tributes. Or younger tributes. Or older tributes. Or weaker tributes. He never even considers that he could be a tribute.

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

From the existing pool of victors.

Existing pool of victors.

Pool of victors.

Victors.

Louis puts his fist through a wall.

 

* * *

 

The only coping mechanism Louis has ever really possessed is ignorance. If he can retreat into his own mind, if he can refuse to acknowledge the reality of the situation, then that means it can't be happening. Everything will be okay.

But everything is not okay. He is incapable of feigning ignorance when every cell is his body is still in a state of panic. He is incapable of retreating into his own mind when his mind is a dangerous place that has an endless track of murder and betrayal on replay.

He vaguely thinks he might have a fever. The world is hazy and his head hurts and his mouth is dry. He drinks glass after glass of water but it never stops drying up.

“I can't,” he finds himself saying, tongue heavy in his mouth. In this moment, he is utterly selfish. “I can't go back in there. I can't. I can't. I can't.”

His mother and Fizzy are crying, Lottie has disappeared, Daisy and Phoebe are simply confused. “I can't. I can't do it.”

He realizes he sounds like Lottie after he had dragged her away from Niall. “He's my friend. He's my friend,” she had repeated on a loop. That's the way he is now. His brain has short circuited and the only thought he is capable of is that _he can't_. Not again.

 

* * *

 

_“I can't, Lou,” Waliyha sobs into his shoulder. “Please let me sleep now.”_

_“We have to keep moving,” he tells her sharply. “Do you want them to find us?”_

_“N-no,” she hiccups. “But I can't keep going. I don't feel well. I'm so tired, Lou.”_

_He knows she is a thirteen year old girl with a nasty concussion and a twisted ankle. But how can he let her stop? How can he let them take a break when the careers could appear at any moment?_

_“I just want to go home,” she cries. “I want my mom.”_

_“You can go home when you win,” he tries to shush her, because she is becoming increasingly loud. “That's better than going home in a box right?”_

_He'll never know what her answer would have been. One moment he is talking to her, and the next moment he is suspended ten feet up in the hair, entangled in a cleverly woven bag. It's such a classic district four trap that Louis is appalled with himself for not already being on the lookout for it. A woven bag hidden beneath the decomposing leaves on the forest floor, sneakily connected to an upper tree branch and designed to scoop up anyone who steps on the trigger point._

_For one shining instant he remains calm. Wali can cut him down and they can be on their way. He should remember that optimism is wasted in the games._

_Of course the district four tributes wouldn't just set up a trap and leave. They would lurk in the underbrush, ready to pounce as soon as their human prey became trapped. Maybe they had not been expecting two tributes, but it hardly matters once they realize that the one on the ground was just a little girl._

_Louis frantically struggles to reach the knife strapped to his belt. He twists around like a madman, unable to reach his belt as he just becomes further entangled. “Run!” He gasps out. “Run, Wali!”_

_She can't. They already have her, and they are laughing as she begins to scream. Louis desperately contorts his body only to find himself unintentionally face down on the twine._

_“Louis!” She's sobbing for him to help her. “Help! Louis! Louis!? Lou?”_

_“No!” he chokes. “No. No. Wali!” He tries to rip himself free, twisting his hands into the woven twine and yanking with all his might. The rough rope cuts into his skin and becomes slick with his blood._

_“Mommy!” Wali is crying now. “Mommy! Zayn! Help me! Lou! Lou..is,” her voice trails off._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_Years will pass for Louis. He will watch eight different children from his district die over the next four seasons. But not a single moment of the rest of his life, not his body being sold or his tributes being killed or his sisters begging for food, not a single moment will ever feature in his nightmares as much as that one._

_Not a single second he's suffered in his lifetime will ever hold a candle to being helplessly suspended in the air watching Waliyha Malik scream his name as she takes her last breath._

 

_* * *_

 

“Come on,” Lottie hoists him up and shoves a set of clean clothes at him. “Get dressed. We're going out.” 

“I don't want to,” he tells her dully.

“Well too bad,” she snaps. “This is pathetic.”

Her words don't even touch him. “I don't care.”

“Well I do,” she hisses. “We're Tomlinsons. We don't mope and we don't feel sorry for ourselves. We plan and we fight and we figure out ways to deal with anything that life throws at us. I'm not letting you sully the family name.”

“I can't, Lottie,” he shakes his head. “I'll die before I go back in there.”

“Stop being melodramatic,” she says sternly. Which he thinks is a little harsh seeing as he is presumably going to be sent back into an arena of death. That seems to warrant a little bit of drama at least.

“You don't even know if it's you that will go back. There are two other male victors in district six.”

He rolls his eyes. “The morphlings? The capitol is not going to send morphlings back into the games. They're going to want to send the more interesting victors to capture the capitol audience's attention.”

“Well now you're just being full of yourself,” she tells him airily. “Since when are you interesting?”

“Haha,” he says monotonously. “Aren't you funny.” 

“You're still coming with me,” she continues. “Whether you come willingly or I have to drag you kicking and screaming. We're going to see Zayn.”

“No,” he states firmly. “I don't want to see Zayn right now.”

“Well luckily I don't really give a shit what you want,” she glares at him. “He's got teleconferences set up with mentors and authority figures from other districts today. Like Finnick and Johanna and  _Harry_ . Or have you forgotten about them during your one person pity party?”

He had not forgotten so much as been choosing not to think about it. Johanna was district seven's only living female tribute. She would be going back in. Harry was one of only two living district seven male tributes. Finnick had the best odds in terms of numbers, but he was by far the most popular district four tribute, and if Louis' theory was correct, the capitol would be sending Finnick back in too.

“Last I heard the district seven mentors were missing,” he says unhappily. Because when he had allowed his mind to wander to them that knowledge was what had kept him sane.

“That was only temporary,” she explains. “While the peacekeepers were being particularly brutal and wanted to punish them for having such a big role in the town riots. The peacekeepers are hardly going to hurt them now. They have to be alive to go back into the games.”

“How do you know about them playing a big role in town riots?” His brow furrows.

She ignores him as she kicks a pair of shoes towards his feet. “Shoes on. Lets go.”

Louis glances at the clock. “We can't, Lottie. It's past curfew. The peacekeepers will stop us.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about them if I were you,” she says casually. “They're otherwise occupied tonight.”

“How do you know _that_?” he asks suspiciously. “What did you do?”

She ignores that too. “I've organized for some people to accompany us to Zayn of course. For precautionary safety reasons.”

“You've organized-? Who are you?”

She shoots him an evasive smirk and shrugs nonchalantly. He decides to stop asking questions.

 

* * *

 

Four years ago, he started feeling the need to apologize to Zayn, and Louis is not sure he's stopped feeling that way since then.

“I'm sorry about Niall,” are the first words he utters when he sees Zayn. Zayn looks skinnier and sicker than ever, exhausted on a level that Louis recognizes all too well.

“He's like a little brother to me,” Zayn says quietly. “I should have been able to protect him. And now I don't even know if he's alive. Will I ever stop failing the people I'm supposed to protect?”

Louis laughs bitterly. “I think that would be me actually. Don't I fail everyone you care about?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I can't keep expecting you to be able to protect the people I love for me.”

That stings, because the unspoken words ring loud and clear. _I can't expect it of you because you have never managed to do it before._

“My whole family was there,” Louis feels the uncontrollable urge to explain himself. “I couldn't just throw myself into a fight for Niall. They could have been hurt.”

Zayn runs a hand through his unwashed hair. “Teleconferences are starting right now,” he says. “Let's just...come on.”

Louis swallows hard before following Zayn into the communications room.

 

** Telecommunication: District 3 to District 6 **

** Persons Present: Beetee Latier, Vaughn Makis, Alicia Fitz, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson **

 

“Can you see me?” Louis crinkles his nose at the extreme close up of a bald man's head. “This is Vaughn? Can you see-”

“Yes, Vaughn,” Zayn says. “You just need to back up a bit.”

There is a bit of scuffling on the other end before everything comes into focus. Louis brightens as he recognizes Beetee. 

“I'll be going back in of course,” are the first words Beetee utters.

“Of course,” Alicia confirms with a nod. “Beetee is a crucial person to have in the arena. We're making arrangements to insure that his name is drawn.”

Louis feels extremely out of the loop. “What?” he asks in confusion. “Why do you want to go back in?”

“He has to go back in,” Vaughn answers for him. “The entire plan revolves around him.”

Louis starts violently as he recognizes Alicia. “You're-! You're the district three escort! You draw the names! What-?”

She looks exasperated with his slow uptake. “Yes. Naturally. As I was saying I will make sure to draw Beetee's name. Although there are only two male tributes to choose from anyway.”

“You'll be in the capitol then, Vaughn?” Zayn is speaking now. “I can only afford so many stops during the rescue mission and we definitely need you on the hovercraft.”

“Yes,” Vaughn nods in affirmation. “I will be at the location we discussed at the time we discussed.”

“Excellent. We have a meeting with district four now.”

Alicia nods. “We'll speak later.” The feed cuts off.

“What the fuck?” Louis turns to Zayn blankly. “What just happened?”

“Not right now Louis,” Zayn says. The screen is already lighting up again.

 

** Telecommunication: District 4 to District 6 **

** Persons Present: Finnick Odair, Mags Caller, Jeffrey Blanchette, Augustus Friedmann, Millicent Beaudry, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson **

 

This time there is a large array of faces on the screen. Louis remembers that the rebellion in district four was supposedly much more powerful and widespread. He searches out Finnick's face and sighs in relief when he spots him.

“This is Augustus,” a very large man begins importantly. “Hello again, Zayn. As you know the capitol has already ordered which tributes shall be chosen from our district and it is not something we have control over.”

“Finnick is to go back in?” Zayn guesses.

“According to our sources, yes.” Augustus answers.

“It's really the best we could hope for,” A women begins. “I'm Millicent,” she adds as she makes eye contact with Louis. “Finnick is the ideal person to form an alliance with Katniss. He will be a strong ally for her.”

“Any ideas on the female?” Zayn asks.

“We're guessing Annie Cresta,” Millicent responds. “Although we have no confirmation on that hunch.”

Finnick winces as they say her name.

“Do you know who's getting drawn from your district?” Finnick asks. His voice is expressionless, but Louis wonders if he cares more than he lets on. Is he hoping that it won't be Louis? Or that it will be?

“The capitol has not given our district's escort any instructions from what I've heard,” Zayn says. “It looks like it will be up to chance.”

“No matter,” Augustus says. “Louis can still volunteer should we have need of him.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth rapidly. “What-? Why would I-?”

“Louis won't be volunteering,” Zayn states in a tone that ends all further discussion on the subject. “I have need for him to be with me if possible.”

“Of course,” Millicent nods agreeably. “It's important you have allies on your side as well, Zayn.”

“Millicent and Jeffrey, you two will be staying in district four,” Zayn begins to wrap things up. “And you will continue to liaison with us from there. Augustus, I will be picking you up in the capitol at our agreed location.”

They all nod in confirmation. The feed cuts off, and Louis finds himself wishing he had been able to speak with Finnick more. He had missed him more than he had realized. And the fact that Finnick was going back into the arena was just...

The screen brightens once more.

 

** Telecommunication: District 7 to District 6 **

** Persons Present: Johanna Mason, Harry Styles, Laura Walters, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson **

 

“We skipped district five,” is all Louis manages to say as he finds himself staring at Harry's face for the first time in eight months. 

Zayn rolls his eyes. “District Five weren't available for communications today.”

“Harry,” Louis mumbles weakly. “Hi.”

“Nice to see you too Louis,” Johanna says sarcastically. “I can really tell you've missed me.”

“Lou,” Harry is blinking rapidly. “I've-”

“Right. Enough with the reunions,” the other woman on the screen says abruptly. “Time is of essence. I'm Laura.”

“What is the plan for your tributes?” Zayn asks. “I know that Johanna is definitely entering as the only female victor to choose from.”

“Yes,” Laura nods. “We think it is important for her and Finnick to become allies with Katniss. They will offer the best protection. We want strong tributes surrounding Katniss at all times.”

Louis considers reminding everyone that NO ONE has explained to him what is happening yet. There seems to be some sort of a plan, but apparently explaining it to him is unnecessary.

“And for the male tribute?”

Laura shakes her head. “We're unsure about who it's going to be. At any rate it can only be Harry or Blight, and they are both in on the plan to some extent, although Blight is obviously the physically weaker option.”

“I can volunteer.” 

Louis almost chokes when he realizes it is Harry speaking. “No you can't,” he snaps.

“I could,” Harry is very pale, but he looks determined nonetheless. “I'm younger and stronger than Blight. If you need strong people to surround Katniss then-”

“We don't think that's the best plan,” Laura interrupts in a matter of fact tone. “Volunteering will draw attention to you. The capitol will wonder why Harry Styles would volunteer to enter a death match against many of his closest friends. It would seem vastly out of character. It might make them suspect something.”

“It's stupid Harry,” Louis hisses. “You're not going to volunteer.”

Harry flushes. “If it would help keep her alive though-”

“Johanna and Finnick are both stronger and more ruthless than you are,” Laura says. “We feel they are the most capable team to have with her.”

Louis nods in satisfaction. He refuses to acknowledge that Harry not volunteering did not to any extent mean that his name wouldn't be picked. 

“Of course he's not going to volunteer,” Johanna says. “He would be a distraction for me. I would be too focused on keeping his klutzy little ass alive.”

“I'm not that klutzy...” Harry mumbles, and Louis is so ridiculously endeared and missing Harry so much it hurts.

“I've missed you,” he blurts out. “Both of you,” he adds as an afterthought.

“I miss you too, Lou,” Harry scrambles to get the words out before Laura can cut him off again. “I think about you everyday. It's been so hard here, so many people have died and I've been so scared that something bad was going to happen to you-”

“And your tributes then?” Laura cuts him off in annoyance. “Who will be going in?”

“Luck of the draw,” Zayn responds. “I wouldn't expect a great deal of help from the district six tributes.” 

“Alright. I will see you at the agreed location.”

The screen goes black before Louis even has a chance to say goodbye. Before he can give Harry one last long look. It feels like a punch to the gut.

“What the hell, Zayn?” He doesn't mean to yell, but he's pretty sure that's what's coming out nonetheless. “What the fucking hell is going on? Why are you going to be picking people up in the capitol? Why is everyone so agreeable about going back into the arena?”

“We have a conference call with district nine next-” Zayn attempts to say.

“No,” Louis snaps. “You are going to explain to me what the fuck is going on.”

Zayn sighs. “Katniss is the only female victor from district twelve.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I've realized that. These entire games are basically just designed so that the capitol can kill her.”

“Exactly!” Zayn exclaims. “We can't let that happen. She's the symbol of the rebellion. So we're getting her out and bringing her to district thirteen. Her and as many of our allies as we can.”

“You can't get people out of the arena,” Louis says dumbly.

“Yes we can!” Zayn's face is lit up with excitement. “I really think we can do this.”

“So then why aren't you trying to pressure me into volunteering too?” Louis mutters. “Probably wouldn't even be that out of character for me. I'm a ruthless killing machine after all.”

“You're never going back in there,” Zayn's face is closed off now. “I'll never let that happen again.”

“You should,” Louis whispers miserably. 

“It's not happening,” Zayn says firmly. “Never. You're the one person I've not catastrophically let down yet, and it's not about to start today.”

“But you haven't forgiven me,” he says angrily. “I know you haven't.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Zayn closes his eyes tightly. “It wasn't your fault and I know that. But she's still dead. And sometimes I just need to hate someone for that.” 

“Okay,” Louis mumbles. “I get it.”

Zayn inhales shakily. “But I still love you. And I will always protect you Lou. Always.”

Louis fights back tears. “Protect Harry too then. If you hear anything about him volunteering again...you have to tell me. I can stop him. I will do anything to stop him.”

“He won't volunteer,” Zayn says, but he nods in agreement anyway.

 

* * *

 

The day of the reaping dawns bright and cold. Louis wakes up, vomits into his garbage can, eats a meager breakfast, and vomits it up into the sink. “Well we're off to a good start,” he tells Lottie.

“You all packed?” she asks him.

“I can't pack for the arena.”

She kicks him in the shins. “You can fucking well pack to be a mentor though.”

“I'm not going to be a mentor.” He shakes his head. “I'm going back in. At least I can protect Harry this way.” That is the one thing that makes it worth it. Although the last time he'd tried to protect someone in the games it had not turned out well.

“We also don't know if Harry is going to be a tribute.” She seems vaguely exasperated with him. “You do realize that Snow can't send every young, popular tribute to go die? The capitol will hate him if he kills all their favourites.”

“Stop being logical,” he snaps at her. And then immediately feels guilty, because his emotions are really not in check today. “I love you though. Never forget how much I loved you. And take care of mom and the girls for me-”

“Shut up!” Lottie yells. “I don't want to hear any goodbyes. Now go get ready for the reaping. The reaping where you will not get chosen. Or volunteer either. In case you were thinking of doing something stupid.”

He gets ready in a haze. Strangely, as the reaping draws closer he stops thinking about his fate and starts thinking about Harry. They would both be getting ready for the reaping. He wonders what Harry is wearing. What he is thinking. Whether he had also thrown up in his sink that morning. 

Louis feels like this is the longest period of time he has ever gone without speaking to Harry in person. Somehow the gaps between the last two games had felt so much shorter. Or maybe it was just that he had cared less then.

Their district gathers in front of the remains of the Justice Building. Louis supposes the capitol cameras will either cut that part out or somehow edit in a virtual justice building before airing the footage. 

He doesn't really hear any of the introduction. He finds that his mind is still in district seven. He is still with Harry. 

The female tribute is picked first. He watches Misty rise to her feet and stumble onto the stage. Her eyes are glazed and her hands shaking. Louis can't remember the last time he has even bothered to speak to her. He doesn't know if she is still even remotely coherent, or if her mental faculties are officially gone. 

“The male tribute for district six-” Louis can see his sisters in the crowd. Daisy and Pheobe are hiding their faces in his mother's skirt. Lottie and Fizzy are holding hands and staring at the stage with pale faces. “Gavin Mathews.” 

His sisters have all started to cry in relief. Louis, for his part, just feels numb. It's not him. He's not going back in. It means less than he thought it would. Instead of relief, all he feels is terror for the friends he knows he could soon be losing. 

 

* * *

 

He thought he would feel even more relief when he watches the recap of the reapings on the train and sees that Harry was not picked, nor did he volunteer. And he does feel a small amount of fleeting pleasure, knowing that for now, Harry is still safe. However, that feeling is quickly overpowered by incredible grief. It's overpowered by the grief he feels for Finnick, and Johanna, and Beetee, and Misty and Gavin. The grief for everyone who thought they were free, only to be tossed back in to their nightmares. 

He's ashamed of himself for the years that he has looked down on Misty and Gavin. Ashamed of all the times that he has treated them as less than people. They will not survive these games, of that he is sure.

Louis feels a crunching in his pocket and slowly pulls out a small slip of paper. He realizes Lottie must have stuffed it in his pocket when they had hugged goodbye.

 

_Dear Louis,_

_I suspect that you will not be returning to district six after these games, and that it might be some time before I see you again. So this letter is to assure you that I will see you again. Whether it be months or years, our family will be together once more. I wouldn't let you say goodbye this morning because we will never have a goodbye. I love you Louis. Stay safe._

_Lottie_

 

He realizes as he stares at her letter and then at the trees zipping by his window that he has just left his home for what is most likely the last time.

It could be years before he sees his sisters again.

“But we will see each other again.” He repeats Lottie's words back to himself.

“We will never have a goodbye.”

He cries into his hands.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooow another chapter with next to no Harry. Believe me I wanted to figure out a way to add more of him. Mostly because I'm living vicariously through Louis and I think I'm getting separation anxiety. But I really couldn't skip any of this part. Good news, this the last chapter without him. He is going to be in 100% of the rest of the story.  
> Also I possibly over developed Lottie's character. As in I know every single aspect of her life, and almost none of it will ever actually make the story. Oups? It's just that the Hunger Games books were sooo much about the strong female characters for me, and because I can't really write Katniss into this story I ended up giving Lottie an awesome backstory. Maybe I'll put it in an epilogue or something.  
> Anywaaay please leave comments or come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They screwed me up,” Harry whispers, and Louis' heart breaks at his words. “They screwed me up and now I don't know how to love normally anymore.”

Louis has no grandiose delusions about being a good person. He knows he's never been brave or selfless. The mere fact that he is still alive is a testament to all his formidable character flaws. Good people never win the games.

The true extent of his selfishness doesn't really hit him until he sees Johanna up on the stage. She is a person he's often hated, a person he has often viewed as bad and cruel and violent and selfish. She is also a person who is going back into the games, not to try to survive it herself, but to try to keep two other tributes alive, which makes her a far better person than he will ever be.

“Every tribute I've ever mentored has died,” Harry tells him, voice emotionless. “How am I supposed to succeed this time, when I never have before?”

Louis thinks it's probably a rhetorical question. At any rate, he has no answer. The position of mentor is meaningless. If Johanna is going to die, she will, and there is nothing Harry can do to stop it.

“I should apologize to her,” Louis says blankly. “You have to apologize to her for me.”

None of the mentors are permitted to interact with any tributes other than their own. It's just one of the many new policies that has been implemented for the quarter quell.

“For what?” Harry asks, leaning back and closing his eyes. Caesar is preparing for the interviews that will start any second now, but neither of them are paying it any mind.

“For not being up there with her,” Louis says. He knows he should be there. He, Finnick, and Johanna have always been a team. He and Finnick, especially, had dealt with every horrific moment of having their bodies sold _together_. The two of them being up there without him is _wrong_ , and he knows it.

Harry shakes his head. “Don't apologize. You're never going to get the answer you're looking for. Isn't that what you told me?”

Louis struggles to remember saying those words. It had been on Harry's victory tour, almost three years ago now. It feels like a different lifetime.

“That's when I thought we were victors. When we had our entire lives, years and years, of pain and suffering in front of us. They're going to be lucky if they make it another week.”

“I'm not sorry,” Harry whispers. “I'm not sorry that you're not going back in.”

Louis reaches over and scratches lightly at Harry's scalp in acknowledgment. Harry cranes his head into the feeling and closes his eyes again. They sit silently for the rest of the interviews. It's only when Peeta announces Katniss's pregnancy that Louis starts to laugh.

Harry joins in, and suddenly they are both curled up in their chairs, doubled over in fits of hysterical laughter. Several Capitol women in the audience gasp at their disrespect and shoot them disgusted glances. That just makes them laugh even harder.

Louis tries not to think about how much laughter can sometimes feel like crying.

 

* * *

 

_Murderer._

_It's such an easy label to smack on people during the games. Johanna Mason survived, and therefore she is a murderer in his eyes._

_Louis hates her with a passion. Every mention of her name makes him think of Joseph and Milly, and every time he hears her voice on the television their screams resonate in his head._

_“Hi?” She is hesitant as she greets him for the first time. He wishes she had been brash and argumentative. That way he would have a justifiable reason to answer rudely. “It's Louis, right?”_

_“Yup,” he responds shortly. “I won the year before you. Don't pretend you don't know exactly who I am.”_

_She flushes angrily. “I was being polite.”_

_“Well don't,” he snaps._

_She snorts. “So that's what it's like then? We all just keep blaming each other for what happened during the games? I thought as a victor yourself you might be a bit different.”_

_He starts at that, but manages to hide it pretty well. She's right; he of all people should understand that human beings_ _can do unforgivable things in the games._

_“I don't blame you,” he grunts reluctantly. “I just don't want any fake politeness.” Which is a lie, because he does somewhat blame her. But he shouldn't, so he won't tell her that._

_“Good.” She plops herself down next to him. “Because I'm not very good at being polite.”_

_He rolls his eyes but finds himself not entirely upset by her presence. A distraction from his own thoughts can be nice sometimes, even if the distraction does come in the form of Johanna Mason._

_Louis supposes that he can forgive her for Milly and Joseph. After all, if she's a murderer, then so is he._

 

 

* * *

 

The games start in the middle of a lake.

There are some pathetic attempts at the doggy paddle, a few quickly executed kills, and a reluctant alliance between Finnick and Katniss. Louis supposes it's going as well as can be expected.

“I can swim,” Harry announces. “I would have been able to swim to shore if I'd been there.”

Louis thinks this is probably what watching these games is going to be like. Both he and Harry endlessly going over how they could have helped if they were there.

“District 7 has lakes?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, his expression wistful. “We have a couple big ones. We've got to have a lot of water to keep the trees healthy.”

“I can swim,” Louis says. “District 6 doesn't have any lakes, but during my first year here Finnick and I used to spend a lot of time at this huge Capitol pool a few miles away. I'm not exactly a great swimmer, but I learned to keep myself afloat and paddle around a bit.” They are silent for a long moment, perhaps both picturing a slightly happier time. A time when Finnick wasn't back in the arena, and going for a swim at a pool was actually an option.

“What do you think it's like to be beautiful?” Harry asks suddenly.

“You are beautiful,” Louis answers automatically, before clamping his mouth shut and internally telling himself off for being an idiot.

Harry jumps in surprise and flushes bright red. “Ummm. I meant like...” He gestures at the screen, where rivulets of water are streaming off Finnick's toned chest, his skin wet and gleaming in the sun.

Louis frowns at the screen. He does not feel jealousy or any emotion so petty as that. Instead he feels a very deep sadness. He knows better than most people how Finnick's beauty has always harmed him more than it has helped him.

“I reckon it's pretty terrible, actually,” he tells Harry. “What do you think the capitol does with beautiful things?”

“That's what I was thinking.” Harry sighs. “I feel sad for him, sometimes. I feel sad for a lot of beautiful people.”

Louis doesn't really know what to say to that, feeling altogether too vulnerable and emotionally unstable to be having deep conversations with Harry. “Good thing we're just ordinary then,” he teases. “No need to be sad for us.”

Harry shakes his head. “You're not ordinary, Lou.”

 

* * *

 

_Exquisite._

_That is one of the few words that comes to mind the first time Louis finds himself face to face with the one and only Finnick Odair. His facial features are perfectly symmetrical, his smile dazzling, his demeanor captivating. He is the walking definition of everything Louis hates about the Capitol._

_Beautiful things cannot be trusted. Finnick is like the enchanting yellow flowers from Louis' games, luring silly little girls in, only to spray them with a poisonous fog. He is like Snow's kind words, always masking a harsh truth. He is like the costumed tributes in their glimmering chariots, hiding the starving, terrified children underneath. Beauty is the Capitol's mask and the Capitol's weapon. It almost always hides the ugliness underneath._

_“Louis Tomlinson,” Finnick drawls out. “It's a pleasure.”_

_“I killed both your tributes,” Louis answers without pretense. He has no patience for Capitol games._

_Finnick shrugs. “These things happen,” he says, as if Louis' offence had been as simple as taking the last cookie on the plate or forgetting to return a borrowed item. “I hear Snow is planning on turning us into quite the dream team among the ladies.”_

_Louis instinctively wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I'm sure the ladies would prefer to stick with you. You don't have to worry about sharing the spotlight with me. It's all yours.”_

_Finnick raises an eyebrow. “The spotlight?” He shakes his head. “You have some things to learn Louis Tomlinson. At any rate, I'm sure you'll end up with more of it than you ever wanted.”_

_“I doubt that,” Louis says as loftily as he can manage. “When presented with the choice between me and Finnick Odair, the decision seems obvious. You're perfect, after all.”_

_“Of course.” Finnick smiles enticingly. “Look at me, I'm impeccable.”_

_Under normal conditions, that would be the moment where Louis walks away, denounces Finnick as a vapid Capitol byproduct and avoids all further contact with him. He has noticed, however, that while Finnick's smile is radiant, his eyes tell a different story._

_They are empty._

_Emptiness is something Louis can understand all too well. So he does not scoff and walk away. Instead, he shoots Finnick his most winning smile. “I don't know, I've actually been told I'm fairly perfect myself. Many have tried, but few have resisted my charm.”_

_It's hard to tell, but Louis thinks Finnick is pleased by his words. “Is that so?”_

_Empty eyes meet empty eyes as they both smirk at each other. For the first time since he won his games, Louis feels slightly less alone._

 

_* * *_

 

Louis can't say that he's ever so much as spoken to Blight. He supposes that Harry must have, though. He would have grown up knowing Blight as a victor around District 7, only to watch him die as a tribute once more.

Harry walks straight out of the room when Blight dies. He simply stands up and leaves. Louis sighs, because he is not entirely sure he is emotionally equipped to deal with this. These games, more than any others, have marked a significant drop in his ability to reason and communicate with others. He feels empty most days. His conversations with Harry are often devoid of any meaning or feelings.

Harry is sitting on Louis' bed when he finds him. Wordlessly, Louis climbs in next to him and pulls the blanket over them.

“You didn't need to come.” Harry looks down at his hands obstinately. “I'm not a baby. I don't need you.”

“I suppose that's why you went straight to my room then?” Louis asks sarcastically.

Harry glares at him. “Your bed is just more comfortable than mine.”

Louis sighs, very much not in the mood for this. “Look Styles, I did not follow you here so you could act like a grumpy toddler. I'm here because you're my friend, so stop acting like a little brat.”

For a moment, Louis is sure Harry is going to get up and storm out of this room as well. It would be justifiable. Louis is not exactly being the ideal supportive friend. Instead of leaving, Harry abruptly leans forward and places a smacking kiss on Louis' lips.

Louis sits, stunned, for a second. “Why did you do that?”

Harry shrugs. “I wanted to.”

“But-”

“Don't tell me that we can't.” Harry interjects before he can even get started. “What exactly are they going to do to us? I'm pretty sure they saw us last year, and nothing bad happened because of that.” Behind his words lies the unspoken implication: if all goes well, they should be in District 13 within the week.

Louis is positive he has more arguments as to why kissing is a bad idea. He has certainly gone over enough reasons in his head in the past. He doesn't really get a chance to voice any of these reasons though, before Harry is kissing him again.

His lips are impossibly soft and tentative, moving slowly against Louis'. His big hand reaches up to lightly stroke at Louis' hair. “This is nice, right?” Harry draws back and looks at him hopefully. “I think it feels nice. None of the Capitol women ever kissed me.”

Louis thinks he might cry at these words. He bites down on his lip hard and gently wraps his arms around Harry's waist to tug him closer to his body.

Harry snuggles in closer, seeming pleased by the increase in body contact but worried by Louis' sad expression. “Why do you look upset? What did I say?”

“Nothing.” Louis shakes his head. “I guess I just sometimes feel very sad for beautiful things as well.”

Harry scrunches up his brow. “I'm a beautiful thing then?”

Louis sighs and pecks at Harry's lips, unable to stop himself now that they've started. Harry is right, he supposes, what exactly does he think the Capitol are going to do to them anyway? They've only got a week left before their escape. “The beautifulest.”

Harry snickers and buries his nose into Louis' shoulder. “S'not a word.”

“We're being nauseatingly cute, aren't we?” Louis whispers into Harry's curls. “I can almost hear Johanna gagging in the background.”

Harry giggles, but straightens up immediately. “We've got to go back now.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“I've got sponsors to arrange for Johanna,” Harry says in a matter of fact voice. “Blight dying is no excuse for sitting around and acting like a toddler. I've still got Johanna, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure she makes it out alive.”

Louis snorts. “You're something else Harry Styles.”

“Now hold my hand,” Harry orders.

“Yes sir.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Do you have any advice then?”_

_“Advice?” Misty stares at him as if he is speaking another language._

_“For surviving?” Louis clarifies. “The games. Because you're our mentor.”_

_“No no no no.” She starts frantically slamming her fists against the sides of her head. “No one survives. No no no.”_

_“Is she okay?” Walihya whispers from her spot curled up against his side._

_“She's high out of her mind probably,” Louis answers grimly. “Fuck...if we die just because we have shitty mentors...”_

_“No no no!” Misty looks even more frantic as she seems to recognize his words. “You don't die because of me. I get you gifts. I get you sponsors. I do all that. You die anyway. Or you live, and then you die like me.”_

_“You're not dead,” Walihya says kindly. “You're okay.”_

_“Halfway there,” Misty murmurs vaguely. “Slower this way.”_

_“I don't understand.” Walihya asks hesitantly, “Halfway to what?”_

_“Don't talk to her Wali,” Louis instructs tiredly. “I don't think her mind's all here.”_

_“No no no,” Misty whispers to herself. “Halfway there. We all die. Everyone dies. Slower and slower and slower.”_

_“Come on Wali,” Louis grabs her hand. “Lets go find some food.”_

_“Is she going to be alright?” Walihya asks worriedly as she allows herself to be tugged out of the room._

_Louis shrugs. “Don't know. Don't really care either.”_

 

_* * *_

 

Finnick is the only one he is thinking about when it happens.

Dozens and dozens of monkeys have emerged from the jungle, all with dagger-like teeth and claws as sharp as razor blades. They converge on Katniss, Peeta and Finnick like a crazed mob ravenous for blood.

In an instant, Louis has forgotten that Katniss and Peeta are the lives he should be focusing on. His eyes never leave Finnick, as he spears monkey after monkey with almost eerie precision. “They're everywhere. Fuck,” Louis hisses.

Harry is gnawing on his lip as he twists his hands anxiously. “They'll be okay. They'll figure something out- Shit Peeta-” Harry's eyes widen and Louis glances over just in time to see a large monkey jump at Peeta, claws outstretched.

In that instant, Louis could swear he sees their entire future flash before his eyes. If Peeta dies, all hope of their escape dies with him. That much has been made clear to Louis. To keep Katniss alive, it was crucial that they also keep Peeta alive.

In that same instant, Misty leaps out from the underbrush, arms outstretched. Louis opens his mouth in a silent scream as the monkey aiming for Peeta sinks its fangs into Misty's bony chest.

“No no no,” Louis whispers helplessly. She hadn't even known, he thinks desperately. Nobody had ever filled her in on the plan to get Katniss and Peeta out of the arena, thinking her too far gone to be able to help with the rebellion in any way. And yet, she must have still grasped enough of what was happening to know that Peeta must be saved at all costs.

Peeta soothes her to sleep with beautiful words about colours and rainbows, letting her float peacefully into the water after the cannon has fired. He says all the right things, giving her the best send off that is possible in a violent death game.

“Lou?” Harry's eyes are filled with tears.

“I was horrible to her,” Louis says blankly. “I've always been horrible to her.”

“I'm sure you haven't-” Harry tries.

“Yes I have.” Louis feels a dark guilt creeping up in his stomach. “I've viewed her as a lesser human from the moment I met her. I thought she was crazy and stupid and drug addled.”

“You met her when you were a kid,” Harry says passionately. “You were heading to your death and had to come to terms with the fact that the only person that could help you in the games was a morphling addict. It wasn't your fault for judging her.”

“But I survived the games,” Louis answers despondently. “She was a good enough mentor for me to make it out alive. But I could still never forgive her for taking morphling could I?” He looks at Harry hopelessly. “Why couldn't I?”

“I don't know,” Harry admits. “Maybe...maybe because she had an escape? An escape you never got. You were the most competent district 6 victor so you've had to mentor alone every single year while she got to escape into her own head. She left you alone Lou.”

That was it, Louis realizes. She had left him alone. After winning he had been overwhelmed and depressed, thrown into a world he did not understand, and she had not been there to guide him through it. No one had been there.

“When did you get so smart?” Louis asks Harry weakly.

Harry smiles miserably. “I guess I just have a lot of experience with people dying.”

* * *

Fear is sort of an all-encompassing element of their lives now. Some days Louis genuinely feels like he and Harry might be going out of their minds.

The thing is, there is only so much grief and pain one person can go through before they stop caring. Years of friends and tributes dying has turned them into people Louis is not altogether sure he likes. He and Harry are no longer capable of grieving for long periods of time. The process of death, grieving and acceptance are compressed into a matter of minutes for them.. He's not sure whether they are bad people, or simply crazy people, but the fact is, they really _don't know_ how to grieve any more.

In what world does death and destruction equal him and Harry making out like horny school boys?

District 6 has an estimated three hundred casualties from shootings late the in night before. District 7 has an estimated five hundred casualties from that morning's bombings. Death. Death. Death. Destruction. That was today's news.

News that had somehow lead to Harry pinning Louis down on his bed and scrabbling at Louis' clothes in a desperate attempt to remove them as quickly as possible. It's not love and it's not longing, it's nothing more or less than an outlet for the pain and confusion that they have no idea how to express in a healthy way.

“This is a bad idea,” Louis pants out, because he knows that one of them has to say something, and he doubts it's going to be Harry.

“No it's not,” Harry says obstinately. “How is it a bad idea?”

Because Louis has deep psychological issues with sex, because Harry is his best friend, because physical intimacy is not the ideal way to express grief, because some of their closest friends are currently fighting for their life, because they don't know if their families are alive or dead, because they both hate themselves most of the time, and because doing anything with each other will probably just make them hate themselves even more.

“Because...shouldn't we like...talk about why we're upset...or some shit?”

“When has talking ever made us feel any better?” Harry demands as he yanks down Louis' undergarments.

“But...shit, slow down at least. Have you ever even done this-?”

Harry leans down to suck on the tip of Louis' cock, prompting Louis to abruptly stop talking. Immediately after doing so, Harry glances up with wide eyes, as if he needs the reassurance that Louis liked it.

Apparently he decides that Louis does not look happy enough, because after staring wearily at his cock for a couple seconds, Harry widens his jaw and takes as much of it into his mouth as he can. “Fuck,” Louis chokes out. Harry's mouth is warm and wet, and it's been years since anything sexual has actually felt even remotely good.

Harry begins to choke and gag slightly, looking confused and marginally panicked as he tries to keep moving further down on Louis' cock. Despite the knotting feeling in his gut and the overwhelming urge to thrust upwards, Louis retains enough sanity to carefully entwine his fingers in Harry's messy curls and gently pulls him up. “Are you okay?” he asks in a voice he's fighting to keep steady.

Harry coughs wetly and nuzzles his face against Louis' stomach. Louis strokes Harry's fringe back from his forehead as soothingly as he can and tries to nudge Harry's face upwards so he can appraise his expression.

Harry's face is the picture of wide-eyed uncertainty, eyes watering and lashes trembling. Louis' tenderly cups Harry's cheek in his hand and watches Harry lean helplessly into it. “I'm sorry,” Harry sniffs, looking mildly frantic in his apology. “A-am I not doing it right? I can do better. I'll try again. P-please.”

Louis' heart clenches because he knows that Harry's words are not really for Louis at all. His words are a result of years of systematic abuse that has turned sex into something that they can only ever fail at.

“You were doing so good,” he whispers as calmly as he can. “I think we should stop now though. I don't want you to be scared or get hurt.”

“No. No, I –” Harry looks, if possible, even more terrified, “I can do it. Don't be mad. I can do it.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try to figure out the next course of action. It's dawning on him how permanently and irrevocably Snow has fucked them up. “I'm not mad at all okay?” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “I'm going to touch you? Is that alright?”

“Yeah, o-okay,” Harry stammers.

Louis carefully reaches forward and pulls Harry's pants down ever so slightly. Despite Harry's obvious panic, his cock remains full and pink, dripping slightly at the tip.

Louis makes a loose fist around Harry's cock, and almost jumps when he feels it twitch in his palm. He tries to keep composed, as he reminds himself that this is not foreign to him. He knows how to disconnect himself from these moments, how to lock down his panic and fear in a place no one will ever see.

Louis reaches his thumb up and rubs it over Harry's leaking head, feeling a fleeting burst of pride as Harry whimpers helplessly, thighs trembling and fists clenching at his sides. He barely notices Harry unclenching one fist and tentatively reaching forward to grasp Louis' cock in his large hand.

“You're good. You're so good,” Louis says quickly, before Harry can panic. Carefully, he leans forward and starts placing gentle kisses all over Harry's flushed cheeks and neck. Harry moans and noses at Louis' cheek, trying to connect their lips.

Their kiss is not much more than panting breathlessly into each other’s mouths. Harry's hand stills momentarily, as he is seemingly unable to multitask enough to both kiss and touch. Then, with a moan he hastily stifles by burying his face in the crook of Louis' neck, Harry comes all over Louis' fist.

Louis doesn't try to get him to continue past that. Instead he gently lifts Harry's hand off Louis' cock and replaces it with his own come-slick one, getting himself off within the minute.

Harry continues to sniff weakly against Louis' neck as they both come down from their orgasms. Louis feels abruptly dirty where the come is touching his skin, and wishes he could go wash it off. He wants to spend several hours in the shower until he can make the world make sense again.

As he stresses over how to get away to at least wash his hands, he almost doesn't notice that Harry has started to cry.

“I'm s-sorry,” He feels Harry mumble into his neck.

“Shhh,” Louis murmurs desperately. “You've got nothing to be sorry for. You were good. That was good.”

“They screwed me up,” Harry whispers, and Louis' heart breaks at his words. “They screwed me up and now I don't know how to love normally anymore.”

Louis instinctively wants to argue back. But how can he really argue with Harry's statement, when even after he himself has just gotten off with the boy he cares about more than anyone else, all Louis can think about is washing all evidence of the act off his skin?

“So we can just love a little differently,” Louis chokes out. “That's okay. Broken people can still love too.”

He's not actually _in_ love with Harry or anything silly like that, he reminds himself resolutely. But he does love Harry, he thinks. And when you have no family or friends left, sometimes you have to go to the only person you still have for comfort.

“We're going to be okay,” Louis whispers as he clutches Harry closer to him. He lets the come dry on their stomachs and doesn't try to run to the bathroom. Because, as weak a person as he might be, he thinks that, for Harry, he can manage to stay dirty.

 

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes up with a parched mouth, longing for a cold glass of water. Carefully untangling himself from Harry's long limbs, Louis wipes down his stomach and hands with some wet wipes and pulls on a spare t-shirt and some loose sweat pants. He wonders if Johanna and Finnick are awake in the arena yet. They probably are, seeing as they don't exactly have the option of a lie in.

Quietly, he pads to the door and out into the hallway, deciding to be a lovely friend and go get him and Harry some breakfast to bring back to the room. That's the last thing he remembers thinking before he feels a sharp blow to the back of his head, and everything spins into darkness.

 

* * *

 

His head is throbbing and the lights seem to dance around erratically in front of his eyes as he regains consciousness. Louis blinks rapidly to try to bring his surroundings into focus. He's encircled by large, burly men dressed in black. They are Snow's men...he thinks. He can't be sure though, the pounding in his skull is impeding most of his mental faculties.

“Did you really have to knock me out?” he snaps, feeling irrationally put out by their method of abduction. “It's not like I would have been able to fight you off. You could have just told me to follow you.”

They don't give him an answer, not that he had really expected one.

“Could you at least tell me what the fuck this is about?” If the cold cement ground he's currently seated on and the thick metal bars he sees in front of him are any sign, he is in a cell.

“You're wanted for questioning on crimes of treason,” one of the guards barks. “You will be dealt with soon.” They march out in a single file line, barely sparing him a glance before slamming the cell door shut.

_Treason._

_Fuck._

This was not the time to freak out, even if every instinct in his body is screaming at him to panic. He hasn't technically committed full out treason...yet. Somehow that is not reassuring.

It is true that he does not know a vast amount of details on District 13 or the escape from the arena. But what he does know is enough to get a lot of people killed.

He knows that there is a plan to get Katniss out of the arena.

He knows when the plan is going to take place.

He knows they are using a District 6 hovercraft of Zayn Malik's to escape to District 13.

They are only broad details, yes, but they are details that can never ever get out. No matter the torture he is subjected to, Louis cannot say a word.

“Hello?”

Louis hears a muffled voice from the cell next to him and feels his heart start to pound uncontrollably in his chest. He can not shake the dread that they got Harry too. “Hello?” he asks hesitantly. “Who's there?”

“Louis?” He doesn't recognize the voice, but apparently they know who he is. “I knew I recognized your voice.”

“Can't say I recognize yours mate,” he answers wearily.

“It's Niall. Sorry, my mouth's a bit swollen. Makes it hard to talk.”

“Niall?” Louis is genuinely shocked. “You're not dead?”

A muffled chuckle resounds briefly through his damp cell. “They can't kill me as long as I still have information they want.”

“What information could you possibly have that they want that much?” Louis asks in astonishment.

Niall huffs angrily at this. “If they think that sending you down here with me is enough to get me to spill my secrets than they've got another thing coming. YOU HEAR ME?” he shouts. “You will never beat me down!”

“Sorry,” Louis says hastily. “I didn't mean to...I just wasn't thinking. Don't tell me anything, obviously.”

Heavy footsteps can be heard moving towards them. Louis cringes and prepares himself for the worst. A dark shape pauses in front of his cell, as if it is appraising him, before it continues on it's way to what is presumably Niall's cell.

Screams begin to fill Louis' ears without warning. Noises he never knew another human being could make. He begins to realize that the pain children could inflict on each other during the games only scrapes the surface of the level of torture the Capitol are capable of. Loud zapping noises seem to rhythmically resound down the corridor, each time followed my moans of agony from Niall.

“What are you doing to him?” Louis shouts furiously, his common sense momentarily leaving him.

All he hears in response is a loud crack and the sound of Niall coughing wetly.

“Just give us a few names.” The man is speaking almost kindly now. “A few names, son, and we'll give you a little break.”

“Fuck you!” Niall's nose sounds like it's clogged with blood and his words are coming out between gasps, but the fury and determination in his voice never waver. “Fuck every single one of you! You'll never get a fucking thing from me!”

It feels like the rations line all over again. Niall being struck down for fighting for what he believes in, while Louis cowers pathetically in the corner and does nothing. He is so caught up in the sound of Niall's screams that he doesn't even notice his own cell door being opened.

“It's lovely to see you again Louis,” Snow's voice, dripping with venom, fills his cell.

“The feeling is mutual,” Louis responds pleasantly. “May I ask why exactly I am here? Surely as the President you have more important things to do than chat with me.”

“I find chatting with you to be of the utmost importance,” Snow says mildly. Another scream of pain can be heard loudly emitting from Niall's cell. Snow crinkles his nose in distaste. “Let us go talk in a quieter location.”

“You mean a location where you've not given orders for someone to be tortured?” Louis spits out angrily. He finds it physically disgusting that Snow actually has the nerve to act distasteful about a noise that he is the cause of.

“Exactly,” Snow remains the picture of calm, which only serves to infuriate Louis even further. He thinks he can make anger work to his advantage. Better to be angry going into torture, rather than terrified and prepared to give up important information.

He glances into Niall's cell as they pass by and sucks in a shocked breath. The bloody mound on the floor is almost unrecognizable. Niall is skeletal. Not District 6 starving, or Hunger Games starving, but a starvation so extreme that it is sickening to look at. His bones strain against purplish skin, looking like they could break through at any second. Every square inch of his face and neck is purple and swollen, rendering his appearance grotesque. Louis suspects that even breathing is probably excruciating. He is overcome with the knowledge that, even if Niall continues to withhold valuable information, it is still unlikely that he will survive the week.

Snow leads him to a sealed off room down the hall and gestures for him to sit down in a plush velvet arm chair. Hesitantly, Louis takes a seat, all the while mentally lecturing himself about all the things he can never say.

“I imagine you already have an idea of why you are here, Louis,” Snow begins coldly.

“Nope, I haven't got a clue,” Louis lies blatantly.

“I don't want to play any games with you,” Snow's voice lowers an octave. “For the sake of our nation, it's important that you tell me where your family is.”

“What?” Louis says blankly. Of all the questions Louis had been prepared for Snow to ask, this was not one of them. “What does my family have to do with anything? My family consists of my exhausted mother and four little girls.”

“Your eldest sister is not a little girl,” Snow hisses. “And you will tell us where she is and how she is accomplishing this.”

“Accomplishing what?” Louis actually starts to laugh, because the fact that the President is personally questioning him about his little sister seems absurd to him. “Look, I don't know where she is. I was afraid my family was dead, so I'm feeling pretty happy right now actually.”

“You will tell me where she is, or face the consequences,” Snow snarls.

“Do you seriously not have anything better to do than try to find out the whereabouts of a sixteen year old girl who's maybe caused a little bit of shit for Peacekeepers in her district? Like actually, don't you have real criminals to catch?”

“A little bit of shit for Peacekeepers?” Snow's lip curls up. “Do you have any idea of the mass genocide that girl is responsible for?”

Somehow Louis doesn't think Snow is talking about the explosion of the Justice Building. Holy shit, what was Lottie up to now? What could she have possibly done that was so bad that the President himself wants to find her?

“Well, I'm sorry, but I don't know where she is.” Louis is relieved that he can say this completely truthfully. “She's a sixteen year-old girl. They don't tell their big brothers anything.”

“Very well.” Snow stands up calmly and paces the room slowly. “I have a few high paying men who've been wanting a nice little boy to satisfy their needs recently.”

Louis' stomach sinks. “I don't know anything,” Louis tries to keep the fear out of his voice. “I'm still not going to know anything, no matter how many people you make me sleep with.”

“Oh, they don't want you.” Snow responds casually. “They have some quite extreme demands in bed. They like the bottom to get quite bloodied up I think. I believe the last boy they played with was so damaged by the experience that he killed himself the next day. How do you think Harry would fair with them?”

“No.” Louis can barely hear his own words over the ringing in his head. “No, please. I'll do it. Leave Harry alone.”

“No, I think they'll like Harry. I'll schedule him in for tonight.” Snow chuckles cruelly. “What was it I heard him say to you yesterday? _What exactly are they going to do to us?_ I think it's time Harry learns that actions have consequences.”

 

* * *

 

_There's nothing you can do about it._

That's Louis' normal reassurance to himself every time something bad happens. When his tributes die, well there was nothing he could have done to stop it. When Niall gets taken and beaten to a pulp, well how could he have possibly prevented that? People bleed and people die and there is absolutely nothing he can do about any of it.

He's not sure when that phrase stopped being enough for him. Probably around the time that he realized that he could not let this happen to Harry. It didn't matter if there was nothing he could do; he would _find_ something he could do. He knew there was less than a week until they were both supposed to be on a hovercraft to District 13, but that was a week he and Harry could no longer afford. They will leave that day, Louis decides. It's the only way. 

He marches into the mentor watching room and gestures for Harry to follow him. “Where were you this morning?” Harry's eyes are red ringed, and he looks exhausted. Louis doesn't have time to feel guilty about the fact that Harry would have woken up scared and alone that morning.

“Roof, now,” Louis says briskly.

Wisely, Harry doesn't say another word and instead matches Louis' fast pace as they climb up to the roof of the Training Centre.

Facing the wind like he and Finnick used to do while trading information, Louis leans close to Harry's ear. “We have to leave today.”

To Harry's credit, he doesn't look shocked or scared. He doesn't even ask why. Instead he nods slowly, and leans closer to Louis. “How?”

“There's a hovercraft of Peacekeepers leaving for District 4 tonight,” Louis murmurs. It's the only escape plan he's managed to come up with, pathetic as it might be. “We can sneak on it. As long as we can get three Peacekeeper uniforms and ID cards and figure out how to disguise our faces.”

“Three?” Harry asks quietly.

“There's someone else we have to get out,” Louis explains.

“Okay.” Harry appears to be mulling it over. “I can get the Peacekeeper uniforms and identifications if you can figure out how to disguise our faces.”

“How are you going to get them?” Louis asks curiously.

“I have a plan,” Harry responds vaguely. He pauses and stares at Louis for a moment. “What's going to happen to us if we don't get out today?”

“Nothing good.” Louis says grimly.

Harry takes a deep breath. “Alright. So we get out today then. Sounds easy.”

Louis smiles queasily. “Of course. It'll be a piece of cake.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo yes this chapter is coming very late...my main excuse is exams. Because I was forced to make the executive decision that passing my molecular genetics class was probably slightly more important than updating. BUT MY SUMMER BREAK IS A WEEK AWAY AND THEN I WILL WRITE AND SLEEP AND RELAX (and work a summer job...but I'm pretending to forget about that bit).
> 
> On another note I finally got a beta for this chapter who I'm pretty sure managed to improve the quality of my writing by like 500% and dealt with my inability to use commas in my dialogue. So thank you so much [ Morgan!](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//)
> 
> And yup...that's it. Come talk to me on [ Tumblr](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) if you want. That'd be a pretty good distraction from studying for my last few exams :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape

"Yeah, I've been thinking about creating a new look for myself for a while now.” Louis is seated on an uncomfortably tall styling chair with bright lights beating down on him from all sides. He feels entirely too much like a tribute again, completely at the mercy of his stylist. “I see everyone walking around the Capitol with colourful skin and interesting tattoos and I just feel so...bland.”

His stylist is nodding passionately along with his words, her entire face lit up with glee. “I'm so glad you're finally starting to appreciate Capitol trends,” she babbles excitedly. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment. I've been wanting to give you a makeover ever since I met you! I have so many ideas!”

“Great,” Louis says wearily. “Ummm...the thing is, I thought maybe we could start with just temporary dyes and stuff? Just until I figure out what I want permanently.”

Lola beams, completely undeterred. “Even better! We can spend the next few weeks experimenting with dozens of different looks. It's important to find the look that best captures your _inner essence._ ”

“Right,” Louis mutters. “Inner essence. Very important. So I was thinking some of that blue skin dye you have, and uh...maybe those weird gold tattoos I see everywhere? Those would probably express my inner essence.”

She actually jumps and claps her hands together with delight. “Blue is so in trend right now too! Also, I think red hair would contrast so beautifully with blue skin.”

“Then dye my hair red,” Louis says agreeably. He's not planning on arguing with any of her style choices. The further he can manage to look from his real self, the better.

“Oh Louis!” She looks like she might cry with pleasure. “This the most cooperative you've ever been.”

He shoots her a fake smile. “I'm working on reinventing myself. One of my personal goals is to be more cooperative and polite.”

She beams at him and sets to work, bustling around and filling a bathtub with rancid smelling blue liquid. Gritting his teeth, he removes his clothes and submerses his body in it, breathing through a little tube she gives him as he ducks his head under water as instructed. “How long do I have to stay in here,” he splutters, lifting his head up and trying not to breathe through his nose. “Why does it smell so bad?”

“Five more minutes,” she informs him. “Put your head back under.” He grimaces, but does as she says.

For the next hour he allows himself to be poked and prodded. He says nothing as his hair is combed and cut and dyed red, as his face is tattooed with strange images of gold shrubbery, and as his pale blue skin is coated with a glittery gel.

“Darling, you look divine,” Lola exclaims tearfully as she stares at her masterpiece. Louis appraises himself in a full-length mirror and bites back a scream. He no longer even looks human, instead resembling some sort of glittery blue peacock.

It has never occurred to him before, but he realizes now as he stares at his foreign reflection, that disguising yourself in a world full of strange Capitol trends is as easy as breathing. His own mother would struggle to recognize him now. “It's perfect,” he whispers, stunned. “How long will this last?”

“Forty-eight hours or a good scrub in the bathtub,” Lolita informs him. “Then you'll have to come back and we can decide if you want to make this look permanent or try something new.”

“Okay, that's great. And umm, just in case it starts to wear off, and I want to put some new stuff on myself, do you think I can have some dyes and tattoos and stuff to experiment with? I'm really trying to get the hang of fashion.”

She proudly sends him off stocked up with an assortment of red, green and purple skin dyes, a pack of black flower tattoos, and a bottle of blonde hair dye. Louis briefly wonders as he walks off whether they will kill her for her accidental role in his escape.

He hopes they don't.

 

* * *

The fear that plagues him is that he is just _too small_ to be one of Snow's men. The guards would be expecting some hulking giant with thick necks and sculpted biceps, and instead they would see a peculiar, blue, glitter-bedazzled Louis.

At least he is wearing the right apparel. Harry had silently slipped him a neatly folded up uniform and a white helmet a few hours ago. Louis can only imagine how he had managed to obtain them.

This is the part of his plan that he knows is the most likely to fail. It would be so easy if he and Harry could have just put on their stolen Peacekeeper uniforms and slipped out. Instead, Louis is disguised alone in a massively idiotic, predestined for disaster, epically terrible plan to sneak Niall out as well.

“I'm here to question the prisoner from District 6,” Louis barks with a confidence that he does not possess.

The jail guards barely even glance up as they toss him a key and wave him through. Louis wonders how many people must enter daily to question Niall for the guards to have so little reaction.

Niall looks impossibly tiny, slumped in the corner of his cell. Louis quickly unlocks the cell door and rushes to Niall's side. “Hey, Niall,” Louis whispers. “It's me.”

“No,” Niall moans, trying to roll weakly away from Louis' voice. “No more. Please.”

“No, no, no,” Louis hastily tries to explain in a hushed voice. “It's me, listen to my voice.”

Niall's puffy, swollen eyes slowly ease open. “I...Louis?”

“Shhh,” Louis silences him quickly. “I'm going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Mate, I hate to tell you this, but I think your skin has turned blue,” Niall chuckles. “It doesn't really suit you.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. He thinks he understands now, more than ever, why Niall has been such a good friend for Zayn. Even in the most horrific of situations, Niall finds it in himself to laugh and make a joke. For Zayn, who is so often trapped in the horror of his own mind, Niall must have been a breath of life.

“Come on,” Louis murmurs as he leans down and attempts to hoist Niall up. “I've got you.”

Niall lets out a strangled scream of pain before he clamps his mouth shut, face sickeningly pale. “It's alright mate,” he grunts through gritted teeth. “Off we go.”

Louis guiltily tugs Niall down the hallway, trying to ignore his agonized expressions. “If you have to scream go ahead,” Louis mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “I'm sure the guards are expecting me to hurt you.”

Louis keeps moving, trying not to focus on the burning sensation in his arms. Too weak to help, the most Niall can do is cling to his shoulders while Louis supports almost his entire weight. His legs are completely limp, his battered bare feet dragging against the cement floor and leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

The guards slowly enter Louis' path of vision once . They are standing with their backs as straight as rods, tracking Louis' movement with icy expressions on their faces. Louis breaks out into a cold sweat as he feels a pit of anxiety building in his stomach. He reaches up with one hand to shakily straighten his white Peacekeepers helmet and smooth down the collar of his uniform. 

“Where are you taking him?” The guard asks suspiciously as Louis continues to draw closer.

“He's finally agreed to tell us everything he knows,” Louis says importantly. “I'm taking him up for his confession.”

“He can't confess down here?” The guard demands.

Louis fixes him with his most withering stare. “ _Obviously_ not.”

A second guard shoots his partner a chastising look. “Obviously. I apologize for his ignorant questions, sir. Please be on your way.”

Louis gives them a curt nod, carefully masking his astonishment as he marches onward. He can't imagine a single other instance in time where this would have worked. It is only the terrifying uncertainty and constant threat of incoming chaos that is allowing this plan to go so smoothly. None of the peacekeepers understand what's happening or who's really in charge. If you're wearing the right uniform and say something with enough authority they'll assume you know more than they do and they'll let you through.

Now that he has passed that first hurdle, Louis' main problem is that his plan is still based, rather precariously, on the assumption that there is no one currently watching the live feed from the security cameras. It is almost impossible, in Louis' somewhat optimistic opinion, for Snow to watch every single Capitol camera at every single second. Surely his focus is primarily directed at the cameras located throughout the twelve districts, considering the majority of them are in the midst of a rebellion. The Capitol recordings must be an afterthought, something that is gone through at the end of the day. Louis is heavily relying on this being the case.

“Lou,” a voice whispers from his right. “In here.” Louis catches a glimpse of one green eye peeking out from the crack of a slightly opened cupboard door. He quickly slips in, dropping Niall to the ground with a bit more roughness than intended, as his muscles decide they are no longer up with supporting the body mass of an extra person.

Niall groans pitifully as he hits the ground. Before Louis can even apologize, Niall is lifting his head and attempting a smile in Harry's direction. “Harry Styles right? Nice to meet you. I watched your season with Louis' sister Lottie. She thought you were right handsome. I'll have to report back to her about seeing you in the flesh.”

Harry smiles uncertainly. “Nice to meet you too.”

“You got everything?” Louis cuts in.

Harry nods. “I've got Niall's uniform, a first aid kit, and all the beauty products we need.”

“How did you get our uniforms anyway?” Louis asks wearily.

“I didn't kill anyone,” Harry answers immediately, looking nauseated at the prospect. “They just might...take a while to wake up. I'm sorry, it was the only thing I could think to do.”

“No apologies required,” Louis says grimly. “Whatever gets the job done.”

“You know I wouldn't kill them though, right Lou?” Harry asks urgently. “Not without reason, and not when I have other options. You know I wouldn't just kill someone.”

“I know that Haz,” Louis answers. He understands that it's important, now more than ever, for Harry to remind himself that he is not a monster. It can be so difficult, in times of war and crisis, to hold on to the part of yourself that makes you good. “Now what do we do with Niall?”

For the briefest of moments, as they properly appraise Niall's injuries for the first time, Louis feels overwhelmed by the shear damage that has been inflicted on this one boy. He has no idea how to make him human again. He’s still standing there, fearful and uncertain, when Harry's face becomes determined and he begins to painstakingly cut Niall's blood congealed clothing from his body.

Louis takes a deep breath as he squeezes a dollop of flowery Capitol soap onto a wet washcloth and starts gently scrubbing the dirt and blood from Niall's bruised skin. Niall is docile and silent as he and Harry lather soap into his hair, furiously scour the deeply embedded grime from his skin and clean and bandage his oozing cuts to the best of their abilities. Niall is either trying very hard to be accommodating, or he is too weak from pain and blood loss to even put up a fuss. Louis is guessing the latter.

“Do we have time to dye his hair?” Harry whispers. “And what about his skin? We're not going to have time to do his whole body but we're going to have to do something about his face.”

Niall was not a victor, and therefore not as likely to be recognized as Louis and Harry, but his swollen, heavily bruised face would raise questions from even the most oblivious of Capitol attendants. “Put some of that blonde hair dye in.” Louis murmurs. “I don't think it's supposed to take that long. And I'll dye his face purple, that way the bruises will just seem like part of the look.” They continue to work efficiently, draping a cloth soaked in purple skin dye onto Niall's face and smearing blonde hair dye all over his head.

“Alright,” Harry mutters hesitantly as they appraise their work. “I guess that will have to do.” Niall's hair is blotchy where Harry didn't evenly distribute the dye, and his face is discoloured where his bruises are still darker than his purple skin.

“I think it's the best we can do for now,” Louis agrees nervously. “He's so skinny though. The Peacekeeper uniform is going to hang off him.”

Harry pulls out a wad of wool sweaters and fleece pants from his backpack. “We could put on a bunch of layers underneath it,” he suggests. “That should hopefully help fill it out a little bit.”

They dress Niall as carefully as possible, but even their softest touches cause him to whimper in pain. “Do I look like a proper Capitol gentleman now then?” Niall jokes feebly as he attempts a pained smile.

“Very dapper,” Harry declares seriously. “You make a handsome blonde.”

Niall cackles out a laugh that sounds like it might actually dislodge a lung.

“Can you walk on your own?” Louis questions worriedly. “It's going to look strange if Harry and I are supporting you.”

“Course I can,” Niall says through gritted teeth. He grabs onto the wall, wiry muscles in his frail arms flexing as he pulls himself to his feet. He's successfully upright for the shortest of instances, during which Louis is pleasantly surprised, and then his eyes are rolling back in his head and he collapses to the ground once more.

“Did he just faint?” Harry asks in shock.

“Shit,” Louis feels a sinking feeling in his gut. “What do we do? We have to wake him up!” _Do not panic. Do not panic._ “Slap him! Dump water on his head!” _Okay, I’m panicking._

“It's not working,” Harry says frantically.

“Slap him again!”

“I'm not slapping him again! It'll hurt him!”

“Dump more water on him!”

“If it didn't work the first time I doubt it's-”

“Okay. Okay. This is okay.” Louis cuts him off, pacing back and forth anxiously. “We're just going to have to carry him.”

“Won't that look weird?” Harry asks.

“Of course it will look weird,” Louis snaps. “You got any other options for us?”

Louis would usually have an option for them. He's always been the selfish person, the person who would suggest dropping the dead weight dragging them down in order to save themselves. For whatever reason though, he's decided Niall is his responsibility. Louis feels an inexplicable tie to him, the same fierce determination to keep him alive that he feels towards his sisters, his mother, Zayn, and Harry. He will _force_ Niall to live, whatever it takes.

Naturally, Harry is too good a person for the idea of leaving Niall to even cross his mind. “I'll take left, you take right,” Harry says grimly. “If anyone asks, he sprained his ankle and is a baby about pain.” They stay hunched, peaking through the cracks in the cupboard door while supporting Niall between them.

“So we just slip into the back of the line when the Peacekeepers pass by,” Louis says as calmly as possible. “We just need to blend in.”

“Yeah,” Harry's voice is surprisingly calm, given the situation. “That doesn't sound too bad.”

“I'm scared,” Louis admits helplessly. “Like completely terrified actually.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “Me too.”

“We could die today,” Louis whispers. “I feel like they'll kill us if they catch us now.”

“We could die any day,” Harry responds quietly. “Our odds are just a little higher today.”

“A little higher?” Louis chokes back a laugh. “That's one way to look at it.” Loud footsteps start to sound from outside the doorway. Louis squints through the cracks and spots a mass of men in white Peacekeeper uniforms rounding the corner. “Ten seconds,” he whispers.

Harry takes a deep breath beside him, and Louis watches him adjust his grip on Niall. “Five seconds.”

“Now,” Louis hisses. They slip out of the cupboard as quietly and casually as possible, seamlessly merging in to the back of the crowd. A few Peacekeepers notice Niall's limp form and shoot them confused looks, but no one says anything.

They scan their ID badges and board the shuttle that transports them out to the hovercraft loading area without any setbacks. Louis cannot fathom how no one has stopped them yet. In his mind, he, Harry, and Niall seem conspicuously out of place.

He and Harry stay dead silent as the Peacekeepers around them grumble to each other about their terrible hangovers. Apparently most of them had been drinking well into the night to celebrate the end of their time in the Capitol.

Niall is just starting to regain consciousness when the transport shuttle slows to a stop in front of one of the largest and most intimidating military hovercrafts Louis has ever seen. These are the types of hovercrafts that are kept so well locked up that, even while living in District 6, Louis’ never laid eyes on one.

“Try to keep your eyes open and nod along with what we say,” Louis whispers to Niall, hoping that the Peacekeepers are all too busy staring at the hovercraft to take note of their hushed conversation. “We've got you, don't worry.”

“He alright?” The Peacekeeper beside him asks. Louis is caught off guard by the genuine concern he hears in his tone.

“Uh, yeah,” Louis answers hesitantly, as an idea suddenly hits him. “He just had a bit too much to drink last night. And by a bit too much, I mean a _lot_ too much. D'you think he'll get in shit for it?”

A few other Peacekeepers chuckle and smile at Louis. “My name's Stan,” the man next to him introduces himself. “I knew there would be one who went a bit overboard,” he grins. “Just glad it's him on not me. Who wants to take bets on how long it takes him to spew all over the hovercraft?”

The Peacekeeper across from Louis groans. “Don't say that Stan. If he pukes you know I'll puke.”

Stan smirks. “Exactly Freddy. Which means I'll win the bet I have going with Johnny that you'll retch within the next hour.”

“You're a terrible friend,” Freddy complains.

“Will he get in trouble?” Harry blurts out, biting on his nails anxiously. Louis reminds himself to make it clear to Harry that he's not allowed to speak from now on. Harry's not really cut out for lies and deception.

“Nah,” Stan shrugs. “We're pretty much giving up our lives to go fight for them. They can't very well give us shit for drinking too much on our last night as free men. What's your names by the way? I don't think I've seen you around before.”

“Ha-” Harry begins to answer, before Louis kicks him in the shins.

“I'm Manuel and he's Geoffrey,” Louis gives Stan the fake names that they have on their ID badges. “Sorry about Geoffrey, he's feeling kind of anxious about the whole...war thing...right now.”

“Understandable,” Stan mutters.

“Time to load gentlemen,” A commanding officer shouts loudly.

Harry and Louis hoist Niall up once more and try to slouch forward in Stan and Freddy's shadows. Stan snickers slightly as he glances back at them but otherwise doesn't say a word, for which Louis is eternally grateful.

The scanning of the identification badges goes well enough, which proves that the real Manuel and Geoffrey must not have been found yet. However, as expected, Niall semi-conscious state does not go unnoticed. “What's the matter with that one,” one of the guards asks tersely.

“He hit the liquor a bit too hard last night,” Louis responds casually. “My apologies for his state sir, but you know...it was our last night.”

“Let them through,” the commanding officer orders with the strangest expression on his face. Louis thinks it might be sadness. “With what they're heading for, those boys all deserve at least one last night of fun.”

Stan grins and gives them a thumbs up as he and Harry pull Niall up the stairs and into the hovercraft as quickly as possible.

“Poor buggers,” Louis could swear he hears the officer mutter under his breath as the entrance is latched close behind them.

 

* * *

 

Louis is unsure how long the voyage to District 4 even takes via hovercraft. From past experience, he knows that travelling by train can easily take the entire day, but a military hovercraft is another thing entirely. While most of the Peacekeepers start to doze off twenty minutes into the trip, Louis can not be anything but anxious and alert, plagued by a debilitating uncertainty.

Part of his anxiety comes from the fact that he had not had time to formulate a plan beyond getting to District 4. If, by some miraculous fluke of nature, he, Harry, and Niall reach their destination without being caught as stowaways and executed, he is not sure what comes next for them. Will it be easy to escape the Peacekeepers in District 4? Will it even be safe to leave them? They are entering an active war zone, and he imagines that most District 4 civilians will shoot first and ask questions later. If their aim is even half as good as Finnick's, Louis would be wise to keep a safe distance.

Throughout the journey, Niall has been getting steadily worse beside him. Louis had foolishly thought that just liberating Niall from his cell would be enough to save him. He's totally at a loss when Niall starts violently hacking up blood. “Shhh,” he hushes him frantically, quickly scanning the room to make sure no one has noticed. Harry hastily wipes the blood off Niall's chin and hands with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Niall chokes out quickly. “Sorry, M'sorry.”

He's not fine, that much Louis is certain of. Niall's breathing is coming in short gasps, and when Louis gently grabs Niall's wrist, his skin is cool and clammy to the touch and his pulse is racing.

“You're fine,” Harry whispers. “We're almost there.” He doesn't sound very convincing, sweating profusely and trembling as he reaches over to hold Niall's hand.

Louis is so focused on Niall's apparently collapsing airways that he doesn't immediately notice the small group of commanding Peacekeepers who are huddled around a walkie and arguing in hushed voices. “How could this have happened?” The loudest voice wafts across the room, and Louis instantly flinches as the words reach him. They are glancing around the room now, looking for trouble, searching for the people that _do not belong_.

Harry, despite the oblivious exterior he often puts out to the world, is incredibly perceptive in dangerous situations. Louis suspects that he had noticed something was wrong well before Louis had become aware. Even now, his eyes are already closed, his head lolling to the side, a perfect imitation of every other napping Peacekeeper on board.

Meanwhile, Louis knows he still appears too tense to be napping, and he's too frightened to close his eyes for even a second, positive that if he does he'll never get the chance to open them again.

The best he can do is paste an artfully bored expression on his face, as if the journey is an annoying inconvenience to him, and hope they don't examine him too closely.

It's just his luck that exactly when the commanders’ eyes sweep past their seats, Niall lets out a catastrophically loud cough that sprays blood all over the floor in front of them. Louis can't think of a single way he's going to be able to blame that on a bad hangover.

Harry's eyes are open now and they exchange frantic glances as the group of commanders walk towards them. Just when Louis thinks they are really done for, the hovercraft shakes violently from a sudden impact and tilts on its side. “Buckle up!” Someone shouts, and everyone is hastily sitting down and strapping themselves in.

“I'm guessing District 4 is shooting at us,” Stan says grimly. “We're a military hovercraft though. There's pretty much nothing they could hit us with that would take us down.”

Louis is surprised to hear Niall's weak voice. “Does anyone know what the manufacturing number of this hovercraft is?”

“What?” Louis asks in confusion.

He doesn't have to be confused for long, as there is a second, miniscule impact to the side of the hovercraft and they are sent into free-fall.

“Never mind,” Niall groans. “I figured it out.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Louis hisses as realization hits him. Niall and Zayn had been fucking sabotaging all the Capitol hovercrafts they'd worked on. He is going to die because of the actions of District 4 and District 6. After years of suffering at the hands of the Capitol, he will die because of his own people.

Everything is suddenly a blur, coming at him in confusing flashes. One moment the right side of the hovercraft seems to be disintegrating before his eyes, and the next second they have crash-landed into the water.

Others are opening the safety latch and swimming out, but before Louis has the presence of mind to try to follow them he hears shots being fired. Every Peacekeeper that tries to swim for safety is immediately killed.

It's horrific.

His ears are ringing as he finally takes note of Stan's screaming.

“No, no, no!” Stan sobs, shaking Freddy's limp shoulders. “You do not get to die before we celebrate your eighteenth birthday. We're supposed to grow up together.”

He's seventeen. Louis thinks he's going to be sick. These Peacekeepers Louis has always been terrified of are children.

 _Is there any right side?_ Louis finds himself desperately wondering as he listens to Stan continue to plead with Freddy to please just wake up. The games were always wrong, and he will never doubt that, but how can this possibly be right? How can it be right that a seventeen year old has died in a war he probably didn't even understand? How is it right that Louis is about to die at the hands of his own people?

“I'm so sorry,” he finds himself whispering to Stan over and over again. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Stan chokes out. “Old men declare war, but it's the young that die. I think the games taught us that.”

“Then why are you fighting for the games?” Harry asks helplessly. “They're wrong, the Capitol is wrong!”

“My family is safe in the Capitol,” Stan hisses. “I'm fighting for the same reason you are. Because I'd rather have their young die than mine. Don't for a second think that the rebels won't kill the lot of us if they win this war, Geoffrey. They'll probably make a Hunger Games with our children instead.” Stan wipes at the tear tracks making their way down his face. “Not that I'll be around to see it.”

The shouting and ricocheting bullets are growing closer. “We've got to swim for it,” Louis cries out. They are still in the slowly sinking hovercraft, but the water level within has been slowly rising and will soon reach their shoulders.

“We'll die,” Harry answers through tears. Every gunshot makes Harry flinch, and Louis is not sure he's ever seen him so overwhelmed with panic, not even when he'd been in the games. “We're going to die.”

“We've got to try,” Louis pleads, as the water height continues to rise. “What other choice do we have?”

They swim, grasping Niall with all the strength they have left as they wriggle out the escape hatch. The water is eerily clear, even with all the bodies floating in it, and he knows that they are immediately spotted. Shots come ricocheting towards them. For the briefest moment after they have broken through the surface, Louis feels the sun on his face, and then his right side is exploding in pain and all he can hear is Harry screaming.

He wants to tell Harry to stop, that he's being too loud, that it's hurting Louis' ears, but for some reason his mouth won't open. “Louis! Louis!” The shrill sounds seem to be coming at him from a distance.

“We're on your s-side,” Harry screams at someone. “S-stop shooting! We-we're on your side!” Louis wishes he could hug Harry and tell him to stop shaking so much, but his limbs don't seem to be working.

He thinks Harry must be the one keeping him afloat because he's certainly not swimming anymore. He wants to ask where Niall is. Who is keeping Niall afloat? They should go find Niall. 

Harry's voice, whispering unintelligible words into Louis' hair, cuts through the haze and makes him momentarily forget about Niall. It feels kind of nice though the way that Harry is holding him so tightly against his chest, like he'll never let go. “Please don't leave me,” he somehow manages to garble out.

Harry is shaking and crying even harder now, and Louis thinks he might be pressing kisses to his face. “Won't. I won't. Never.”

Louis stretches his face into a painful smile. He doesn't want to worry Harry. He should smile. Harry is still screaming though, he never stops screaming.

The last intelligible thing Louis remembers hearing before everything slowly fades out is a brash male voice booming, “Ceasefire! That's Niall Horan! It's fucking Niall Horan!”

 

* * *

“Well this has all been rather over dramatic, don't you think?” Louis slowly becomes aware that there is someone talking to him. “Just hurry up and open your eyes so your boy stops crying so much. I really can't handle the kid crying, it makes me feel like I've kicked a small puppy.”

He eases his eyes open, blinking rapidly. “W-what?” He coughs, his mouth parched. “Haz?”

“Louis!” Harry bounds over (not unlike a small puppy actually) and is suddenly almost on top of him, stroking his face anxiously and shoving a bottle of water towards his mouth. “Are you okay? How do you feel? Does it hurt a lot? That was a stupid question, of course it hurts a lot.”

“Where's Niall?” Louis winces as he tries to sit up slightly. “Is he okay?”

“Umm they put a chest tube in him. He had internal bleeding, I think Nick said.” Harry looks over at the man who had woken him for confirmation. “In his chest cavity, and like, his lungs. But not from the crash, from before. Probably from the torture. Everyone is working on him. He's some sort of war hero celebrity or something. And you were shot, but when Niall said we were with him they got the bullet out and stitched you up and Nick says you're going to be okay.”

“Not sure why Niall Horan would vouch for you, Manuel,” the man who had woken him up says drily. “Although, your skin dye did wash off so at least you have the good sense not to permanently dye yourself blue.”

“Manuel?” Louis asks blankly.

“Your name.” The man, Nick, raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps you're experiencing some memory loss from the trauma.”

“Ummm.” Louis is not sure what to say. Without their skin and hair dye, he and Harry are clearly recognizable as victors. He's not sure how anyone could not know who they are.

“I think Manuel and Geoffrey are definitely the names you want to keep,” Nick says pointedly. “It would hardly be good if word got around that we have anyone important here.”

“Right,” Louis nods carefully. “Are you a doctor then?”

Nick sniffs haughtily. “Of course I am. How else do you think I managed to save your worthless life?”

“He was great Lou,” Harry curls up into Louis' side and wraps his arms so tightly around Louis' middle that it actually hurts a bit. “I thought you were going to die, but he made you better.”

“Wasn't exactly easy with you sniveling in my ear the whole time,” Nick rolls his eyes, but smiles at Harry fondly, which just proves that it's impossible to not be fond of Harry. “You're easily the least intimidating victor I've ever met.”

Harry shrugs, too busy petting at Louis' hair with an adorably focused expression on his face to even pretend to be offended by Nick's words.

“What about Stan?” Louis suddenly remembers. “The Peacekeeper who was with us. What happened to him?”

Nick shakes his head. “I don't know who Stan is, but the Peacekeepers are all dead. We don't take hostages.”

Louis stiffens. “Most of those Peacekeepers were scared teenagers.”

Nick glares at him, and Louis decides that he definitely does not like this man. “Are you actually trying to argue morals with me right now? The Capitol spawn have never shown any compassion for our children, we're just returning the favour.”

“That doesn't make it right,” Louis argues, but he has lost some of his heat. He thinks of the hundreds of Peacekeepers his sister had killed when she had blown up the Justice Building. War comes at a cost, and kindness will win them nothing.

“The sun's coming up,” Nick says abruptly. “You should take a look outside. You've probably never been this far into District 4.”

Louis shakes his head. “I've only ever been in the town square. I've never even seen the water.”

“Well come on then.” Nick makes his way out of the makeshift tent they had been lying in. Louis pouts at Harry resentfully as he ignores Louis' protests and scoops him up.

“You shouldn't walk,” Harry says, looking extremely pleased that he's got the opportunity to carry Louis. “You'll rip your stitches.”

Harry carries him around a few boulders before gently setting him down on a patch of soft moss. “Look,” Harry breathes, stunned.

Louis stares out. They are sitting at the edge of a vast expanse of water, clear blue and white capped. Large trees sway in the breeze and towering cliffs surround them from all sides. If he squints far enough out he can see small shacks at the shoreline, with little fishing boats anchored to the docks. It's a new world, and Louis is in awe.

“We fight for a lot of reasons,” Nick says, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. “For our parents and our children. For peace and justice. But I fight for this. I fight for my home. No hovercraft of Peacekeepers gets to show up here and destroy my home.”

Louis blinks and glances up at the brilliantly blue sky. He feels the wind in his hair and the way the damp moss is making the seat of his pants wet. He feels, for the first time in a long time, like he has won something.

Here there are no cameras or deceit. Here he does not have to be so afraid.

This is freedom.

This is what he wants to fight for.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really shit at updating aren't I? Remember that one time I updated after only five days? Just think about that whenever you get annoyed with me. 
> 
> Anyway thaaaanks so much to everyone who keeps commenting and sending me messages on [ tumblr](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/), you are so incredibly awesome and every single comment absolutely makes my day. Seriously, I screenshot nice comments and spend a pathetic amount of time rereading them. 
> 
> And another thanks to the amazing [ define-lying](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//) who edits everything I write so wonderfully. I'm not sure how many times I'm supposed to credit my beta in my author's notes, but she's awesome so I'm just going to keep doing it indefinitely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because life in District 4 is strange in the sense that nothing is okay, but it's still the most okay it's ever been.

The sun is too bright, and the air is too cold, and the voices around him are much too loud.

Nick tells him that they can't afford to waste their pain medication on him anymore. Not when he is healing nicely and there are so many people in excruciating pain who need it so much more than he does. Louis doesn't complain or argue, not when he views Nick's words a perfectly valid, but he does retreat into a haze of pain over the last few days of the 75th Hunger Games.

Harry sits by him most days, acting twitchy and strange. Louis hears him scream himself hoarse during his sleep from nightmares that Louis is powerless to protect him from. Louis tries to ask him what is wrong. He tries to ask why the violence in the hovercraft had sent him into such a tailspin of panic. Why, despite years of horrors and fear, he seems to be handling everything so much worse lately. Harry just shushes him and tells him he should be focusing on his recovery.

So things are confusing for a while. He's getting better, but somehow it's a slower process than he had imagined. He supposes he'd visualized a quick recovery, and the reality of days of pain is unwelcome. He feels powerless, stuck in bed, and he doesn't like it.

Louis is half asleep when Katniss finally blows up the force field, but he fights to keep his eyes open. There are people exclaiming in shock all around him, and Louis dimly remembers that not everyone had known about the plan to rescue the victors from the arena. He feels a strange sense of detachment as he watches Finnick and Katniss being airlifted up into the hovercraft that he was supposed to be in. The plan he was meant to be a part of is unfolding before his eyes, but he is not there.

His head hurts from all the screaming and commotion, but the air smells like ocean and Harry is breathing beside him. Louis thinks he's made the right choice.

 

_* * *_

 

The water is not calm today. It's loud, crashing against the rocky shore and spraying Louis with icy droplets. He zips his jacket up as high as it goes and tucks his chin down, protecting his face from the biting wind. He looks like a proper District 4 fisherman, he thinks. His hair is tangled and scraggly from the wind, and his cheeks are flushed, bearing a slightly weathered look.

Louis is on water duty for the morning. It's important to have people on guard at all times, crucial that they immediately spot any air, land, or water borne attack. The Capitol hasn't actually tried an attack from the water since their failure a few weeks ago. Louis thinks of the district's kids that now play in the wreckage of the massive Capitol submarine that had washed to shore the day after the attempted attack. They should know now that it is not prudent to attack District 4 from the water. Still, Louis squints into the sun as he scans the coastline for unexpected movement. He likes feeling useful.

He doesn't bother turning when he hears the unmistakable sound of feet crunching on rocks coming from behind him. “Tea?” Harry asks as he falls into place beside Louis, carrying two chipped, steaming mugs in his gloved hands.

Tea in District 4, Louis has long ago learned, is seaweed based. It's a strange taste, but it's hot and it warms his hands, so he accepts it gratefully.

“We're on day three of no attacks,” Harry says, wiping at his red nose, which is running steadily from the cold. “That's our longest stretch so far.”

“Well they've not been very successful on their last five attacks,” Louis answers. “Maybe they're getting apprehensive about wasting more of their forces on us.”

“Maybe,” Harry acknowledges. “Have you spoken to Niall today?”

“Not yet, have you?”

“Saw him for a bit, yeah. He's working on adding these massive torpedoes to all our ships. And,” Harry adds with a little smile, “you know, he's pretty busy being worshipped by ever person here.”

Louis snorts. Niall is essentially the king of District 4. During the first few weeks of his recovery, Niall had constantly been surrounded by a crowd of awe struck children, fascinated teenagers, and admiring adults. From what Louis has gathered, Niall had somehow provided District 4 with the vast majority of their weaponry, even while he had still been living in District 6. Now that they actually have him amongst them, they are creating a veritable army.

He is still in pain almost every day, Louis would have to be a fool not to notice that. Injuries like Niall's don't just disappear. Even after a month of reverent District 4 citizens attending to his every need, Niall still can't move around without a considerable amount of pain. It doesn't matter though. Niall gets up every morning with the determination of someone who has never even realized giving up is an option.

“I do not understand that kid at all,” Louis shakes his head. “He's batshit insane.”

“He let me connect some wires in a missile today,” Harry says brightly.

“Like I said,” Louis responds with a smirk. “Batshit insane.”

Harry rolls his eyes and sips at his tea. “Yeah, maybe a little. But in kind of the best way, don't you think?”

“Insane in the best way?” Louis grins. “That sounds about right.”

The entire district is a bit insane actually. Each District 4 citizen represents a strange mixture of privileged career and systematically oppressed victim. Each adult Louis has encountered seems to recognize the dual sides of their personality. They recognize that they had been brainwashed into believing being a victor was something to strive towards, and they also recognize that those amongst them who had become victors had suffered unimaginable pain because of it. They are not just angry that the games exist, they are angry that, for years, they had believed them to be a good thing.

Louis would like to talk to Finnick, once this is all over. He imagines telling him of the months he has spent in his home. He imagines telling him about the incredible freedom he has known here. He's not sure he would be able to put it into words though.

He's not sure he could explain what it feels like to go to sleep huddled in a wet cave with a mass of smelly men and women. Or what it's like to wake up to Nick shouting the day's schedule in his ear while Harry bustles around, happily handing out porridge. How does he describe Niall, greasy faced and dirty, still skinny with fading bruises, but happily sifting through metal parts as he excitedly explains the latest deadly weapon he is assembling? There's no way he could ever explain how an active war zone can sometimes feel like the safest place he's ever been. How the threat of dying because some unnamed jet might drop a bomb is so much less frightening than day-to-day life in the Capitol. He wouldn't have to explain any of it though, he supposes, Finnick would just know.

“We'll hear something soon,” Harry, who has the uncanny ability to immediately know when Louis is thinking of anyone in District 13, promises. “I know we'll hear soon.”

“It's been almost a month,” Louis sighs. Almost a month since the games had ended. More than a month that they had been in this district. “She's the symbol of the rebellion. We should have a least heard something about her by now...the fact that we haven't...”

“We're going to hear something soon,” Harry says firmly. “I can feel it.”

A foghorn begins to blare, reverberating across the water, indicating that a potential air attack has been spotted. “Well at least we had three days,” Louis mutters. “You good?” He turns to Harry, who has paled significantly.

“Course,” Harry answers quickly. “Lets go set up the defense.”

They pull up their hoods and run for the caves. Louis is not afraid, not after the fourth or fifth time. He knows how this goes, knows exactly what to do.

He shoots Harry a reassuring smile. They'll be fine. They always are.

 

* * *

 

The first sign of life from any of the tributes who participated in the 75th Hunger Games does not come from Katniss or Finnick. It comes from Peeta Mellark.

There are several massive screens distributed throughout District 4 that, in all past years, would have only been used for the mandatory viewing of the games. These days, they are primarily used by the Capitol to broadcast various meaningless, anti-rebel pieces of propaganda. Despite the people's best efforts over the last month, the screens had proved impossible to take down.

Which meant that each and every person in District 4 had the chance to hear Peeta Mellark denounce the rebel cause and request a cease-fire.

"We can't fight one another, Caesar. There won't be enough of us left to keep going. If everybody doesn't lay down their weapons--and I mean, as in very soon—it's all over, anyway."

"Yes. I'm calling for a cease-fire."

“This is bullshit,” Niall declares indignantly in the aftermath of the interview. “It's not like we've been going to the Capitol and dropping bombs on them! If he wants a cease-fire he should take it up with Snow.”

“They're probably not even his words,” Louis tells him. “I'm sure it's all scripted. Probably promised not to hurt him if he does what they say or something.”

Niall just looks confused. “That doesn't make any sense. It's better to be hurt than give into them.”

“Not everyone can be as strong as you Nialler,” Louis says. “Torture breaks most people.”

“Oh.” Niall frowns. “That's too bad.”

“Torture doesn't break everyone.” Harry had been silent up until then, but now he looks vaguely upset. “Bad things happen, but it's possible for people to get better. To be okay again.”

Louis crinkles his brow in confusion. “That's not what I meant. I just meant it's not hard to get people to do what you want when they're in a lot of pain.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry mumbles. “Sorry.”

Louis doesn't like the way Harry is darting his eyes around as he avoids Louis' stare. Everything about his words and facial expression is setting off warning bells in Louis' mind. He makes a mental note to talk to Harry properly about this the next time they are alone.

“No worries,” Niall claps Harry on the back cheerfully, never one to let gloom settle for long. “Let’s go be upbeat so nobody feels down about the whole Peeta thing.”

“Upbeat?” Louis raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen me or Harry upbeat about anything?”

“Sure I have,” Niall says airily. “Tons of times.”

This is blatantly untrue, but he and Harry follow Niall nonetheless, trying not to grimace too much. The mood across the district is noticeably low. They haven't heard a thing from the Mockingjay in over a month, and now Peeta has shown up and sided with the Capitol. It's not doing much for group morale. Niall, however, is amazing, bringing smiles and renewed confidence to almost everyone he talks to. Louis thinks that, more than just proficiency with mechanics, Niall's real gift is his ability to bring happiness to others.

It storms that night, the wind becoming so volatile outside that the Capitol wouldn't dare attack. So instead of staying on watch they make a bonfire at the mouth of a large cave, twenty or thirty of them, and spend the night drinking terrible beer and talking loudly as they huddle under ratty blankets. Niall belts out several “traditional District 6 songs” that Louis is fairly sure he invented and plants smacking kisses on at least a dozen different cheeks. Harry holds Louis' hand under their shared blanket, and Louis smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

Peeta Mellark's words do not break them.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, the Mockingjay promos begin to air.

It's a huge boost for everyone. The videos show her fighting in District 8, where the Capitol had just bombed a building full of injured civilians. Louis gets to spend five minutes rejoicing that Katniss is alive with the rest of District 4, and then they spend the rest of the day moving their injured to different locations.

“She's kind of amazing, isn't she?” Harry asks Louis quietly as they help Nick change bandages on a group of severely burned teenagers.

“She's alright,” Louis responds indifferently. “I'm glad she's alive. It sends a good message to the Capitol.”

“I just don't think I could do that,” Harry says. “Be that symbol for everyone. Keep having my every move televised. She's really strong.”

“We all do what we have to do,” Louis says. “She means a lot to a lot of people. She kind of has to be strong.”

“You would probably be able to do it too,” Harry sighs. “You're always strong. I'm sorry I'm not better.”

Louis frowns. “What are you talking about? Where is this even coming from?”

Harry shrugs and stares resolutely at his feet. “I'm just not as good as you at being brave. And I want so much to be better, but then my head goes wonky and I can't.”

“Well that's stupid.” Louis says firmly. “You're the strongest person I've ever met.” Harry’s still not looking at Louis, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, don't shake your head at me like that. You are. And I'm crap without you. _You_ make me strong.”

Louis is not lying, not in the slightest. There's no doubt in his mind that the best things he has done in his life have all been because of Harry.

“I can't make them stop,” Harry whispers suddenly, desperate. “The nightmares. I can't sleep; I can't even close my eyes. I'm so tired.”

Louis doesn't bother asking what the nightmares are about. Not when he knows there are a billion memories for his subconscious to choose from. “Come sleep with me tonight. It'll be super scandalous. The whole cave will be whispering about us.”

Harry giggles, upset expression melting away slightly. “Out of wedlock? What type of person do you take me for?”

Louis leans in and kisses Harry' upturned mouth. Harry seems surprised for a moment, before he takes Louis' face in his big hands and kisses him sweetly back.

Louis realizes that he's not sure if he's ever kissed Harry first. It's always been Harry who's wanted to, who's needed it. He remembers Harry's words from one of the last times they'd kissed. _“It feels nice, right? I think it feels nice. None of the Capitol women ever kissed me.”_ Louis vows to do it more often.

“We on for tonight though?” Louis asks. “I'll get Niall to come too. We can do a big snuggle sandwich.”

Harry nods, the bags under his eyes incredibly pronounced in the dim lighting. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh joy, another interview with our beloved Peeta Mellark,” Nick comments drily as Peeta appears on the giant screen, eyes wild and complexion sallow. Louis hears some worried murmuring about how ill Peeta looks, but his eyes are drawn to where President Snow can be seen on the left side of the frame. Looking at the subject of most of his worst memories causes Louis a wave of nausea.

“Didn't we just see Peeta's first interview yesterday?” Niall asks. “I could swear it was just yesterday.”

“It was a couple days ago,” Nick informs him.

“It was last week,” Harry corrects.

“Nope,” Niall contradicts. “Definitely yesterday.”

Louis resists the urge to snap at them to shut up as he tries to focus on Peeta's somewhat lucid anti-rebel ramblings. He barely has a second to ponder what kind of sickening torture the Capitol must have inflicted on Peeta to cause this extent of mental deterioration before his face is being replaced by Katniss'. The switch lasts for only for a handful of seconds, but it is enough to throw the interview into complete disarray.

“District 13 is breaking through a Capitol broadcast,” Nick exclaims gleefully, as if they weren't capable of ascertaining that themselves. “This is so dramatic.”

Dramatic for Nick maybe, but all Louis can feel is a familiar shiver of dread run through him as President Snow's eyes seem to bore into him, even through the screen.

“I think he's got a booger,” Niall says loudly into Louis' ear.

He tries to appear unaffected as he fixes Niall with a confused stare. “Who? What?”

“Snow,” Niall responds. “I can definitely see a booger hanging from his left nostril.”

“I see it,” Nick says agreeably. “It's a massive one.”

“Really?” Harry asks, hilariously hopeful.

“Definitely,” Niall says seriously. “It's all yellow and curdled and-”

“That's quite enough,” Louis interrupts, but he finds himself chuckling nonetheless, the dread retreating slightly from the forefront of his mind. “Somehow I find myself not wanting to visualize Snow's yellow, curdled boogers.”

“I don't know mate,” Niall muses solemnly. “This seems like the type of thing you're going to want to remember. One day, when you're telling your grandkids about how you were there for the infamous booger broadcast-”

"Katniss...how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you...in Thirteen...Dead by morning!" Peeta's eyes are crazed, his words frantic. Louis swallows hard as the smiles melt off all their faces.

For a long moment, nobody seems to breathe as the image on the screen flickers eerily between Katniss, fierce and rebellious, and Peeta, kicked and bleeding. Then, with one last horrifying splatter of blood across painted tiles, the broadcast cuts off, and the screen goes black.

The room is dead silent. Several rebels that Louis has never seen even remotely fearful are breathing harshly. People are exchanging bewildered glances and holding back tears. Katniss and Peeta's welfare affect the collective spirit of an entire district more than Louis suspects either of them will ever know.

“I know it looks bad,” Harry, expression determined, speaks up against the rising panic in the room.“But District 13 have been warned, which means if there is a bomb heading their way, they now have time to evacuate. And also we have to remember that Peeta is the main thing Snow has to hold over Katniss. There's no way they'll actually kill him for this.”

Several people are nodding along and looking reassured by Harry's words. Harry looks mildly surprised that his speech had worked. Louis is not surprised in the slightest. He wishes Harry could recognize these moments. Maybe if he recognized all the times he was strong, all the times he brought strength out in others, he would stop wishing he could be better.

“Nicely done,” he murmurs into Harry's ear.

Harry shrugs. “It wasn't hard. I just thought of what you would say to me if I was panicking.”

Nick eventually shoos everyone off to their respective evening tasks with an annoyed wave of his hand. Louis is on radio duty for the remainder of the day, which consists of keeping on eye on their various communication devices and responding promptly to any other district's attempts at contacting them. The job can range from exhilarating to incredibly disheartening, depending on the news being imparted.

That night, with the main focus on District 13, news from other districts is practically non-existent. Under these circumstances, the radio hub has become gossip central. People show up every minute like clockwork, wanting to know if Louis has any news.

And it's sort of...fun. Everyone talking over each other and inventing strange hypotheses for what's going on. A couple hours in, Niall shows up with his usual fan club of teenagers who all immediately put on mature expressions and try to act older than they are so they can be included in the discussion.

Still, Louis is weary, on guard for bad news. He knows better than anyone how fast happiness can turn to sorrow. How quickly you can lose everything. Under the smiles and chatter, he is prepared for news of mass death. He thinks they all are.

It doesn't come. Instead, they receive a short transmission relaying that District 13 is safe, and they will broadcast a short video proving the Mockingjay's survival as soon as possible.

Niall starts crowing loudly and pulls everyone within a five metre radius of him into a lung crushing group hug. Louis frees himself from the tangle of limbs as he spots Harry trailing in after Nick, done with his evening shift in the medical tent.

Harry takes in their happy expressions and gives a hopeful smile. “All good then?”

He's got a smudge of dirt across his cheek, his hair is sticking up ridiculously in five different directions, and Louis is overwhelmed with feelings of fondness. Without really over thinking it, he pulls Harry gently towards his chest and plants a quick peck on his mouth. Because _why not?_ Who is going to stop him? Harry blushes violently and clutches at the back of Louis' shirt, biting his lip in an attempt to hold back a smile.

Louis realizes a moment too late that both Nick and Niall had witnessed their exchange. He tenses under Harry's grip, unsure of what they're going to say. To his surprise, their reaction consists only of Nick rolling his eyes, and Niall shouting out, “I knew it!” as he forces a confused girl to give him a high five. Harry raises a hand to his mouth to cover his smile.

Louis feels invincible.

 

* * *

 

Louis hates the medical tent. He can't handle the bleeding, suffering people or the smell of decay or the hopelessness he often feels in the face of very little medical equipment and absolutely no medical knowledge. He especially can't handle being in constant close proximity to Nick, who he can only put up with for short periods at a time.

When he is forced to do shifts in the medical tent he spends most of his time sanitizing and bandaging things, as it's essentially the only thing he feels he can do safely without potentially killing someone.

Harry loves the medical tent, which Louis finds to be rather unexpected. He's never seen Harry as someone who is particularly comfortable around blood or injuries. In fact, Louis has a distinct memory of Harry screaming hysterically the last time Louis was injured. He's calm when he's in the tent though, happy to be Nick's little assistant.

Thankfully, there had not been any new injuries that day, which means that Louis can get away with not doing much for his morning medical tent shift. He hides in the corner and plays with Lux, a four year old girl who spends most of her time wandering around the district barefoot and dirty, her parents both bedridden.

He's busy playing peak-a-boo and ignoring Nick's judgmental glares when Harry walks in. “Thought you had air watch right now,” Louis comments casually while he tickles a squealing Lux.

“Got relieved early,” Harry answers. “And I like medical better anyway. Staring at the sky for that long hurts my eyes. Why hello Miss Lux,” he adds, doing a clumsy little bow in her direction.

She beams up at him, utterly delighted by all the attention.

“So are you going to be a doctor when this is over then?” Louis teases. “Seeing as you love medical so much.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles wistfully. “That would be nice. What are you going to be? My housewife?”

“Fat chance,” Louis snorts. “If anyone is going to be the housewife, its you. I'm going to be...something awesome.”

“Alright,” Harry is grinning now. “So I'll be a doctor and you'll be something awesome. Where are we going to do this? Here? Or are we going to go back to one of our home districts?”

“Here I think,” Louis says decisively. “Here is nice. But we'll move our families and friends out here with us. And we'll vacation in other districts. Travel home whenever we want.”

“Can we have a house on the water?” Harry asks. “Not that I don't like the caves.”

“House on the water it is,” Louis answers seriously. “With a little boat out front.”

“And a pet cat,” Harry muses. “Oh, and a flower garden.”

“It's a plan then,” Louis says. “As soon as this is over.”

“It's nice to imagine,” Harry sits down in front of Louis as Lux scurries off in boredom. “I wish it could happen.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks lazily. “It could happen. Some day.”

“I mean...we're not meant to both survive this,” Harry says slowly, oddly calm. “We aren't meant to have a happy ending.”

“What?” Louis feels unreasonably angry, jarred out of his perfect imaginary future. “What are you talking about? Things have been good. Why can't we both make it through this?”

“Because,” Harry leans back and rests his head against Louis' shoulder. “This last month...this is the happy part of the story that comes right before the sad ending. This is that little glimpse we get of the life we always wanted, before it's snatched away from us.”

“Well that's stupid. I'm going to live, and you're definitely going to live.”

“Since when have you been an optimist?” Harry asks with raised eyebrows.

“Since you started saying fucking stupid things about dying,” Louis snaps. “No one is dying.”

“Okay Lou,” Harry says agreeably, cuddling closer. “Don't get upset. We're still in the happy part of the story.”

“You're stupid,” Louis mumbles, burying his nose in Harry's soft curls.

He doesn't want Harry to be right, but now that he's planted the thought in his head it's impossible to stop. What if this really is as good as it gets for them? What if this is the last stop before the sad ending?

“You're not going anywhere Styles.”

Harry doesn't answer.

 

* * *

 

Louis begins to measure time by television broadcasts. He classifies events based on whether they happened before or after Peeta's first interview. Before or after the Mockingjay promos. Before or after Peeta's warning about the bombing. His life in District 4 is carefully subdivided into segments based solely on his viewing history.

He can't really explain it, the strange connection he feels to the people in both District 13 and the Capitol. Except that so many of his friends are in District 13. And so much of his life still feels bound to the Capitol.

Which is why the appearance of Finnick Odair on the big screen, someone who is inextricably linked to both his life in the Capitol and his lost future in District 13, feels so monumental.

He is aware that his relationship with Finnick has always appeared strange from the outside. They never appeared to talk or hug or chat about their lives or even exchange reassurances. None of the things that characterized his relationship with Harry were present in his friendship with Finnick. Instead, they wordlessly recognized each other’s misfortunes, and in turn acknowledged the utter futility in fighting things that could not be fought. They dealt with the horrors of the games silently, but still unmistakably united.

Finnick is alone now though. Alone and spilling secrets that Louis had assumed they would never share with a soul. Secrets that they had barely ever even acknowledged out loud to each other, let alone to the world.

"President Snow used to...sell me...my body, that is. I wasn't the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it."

It's out then. He doesn't know why Finnick had chosen to tell the world now, or what his motivation could possibly be, but he supposes it doesn't really matter. His family would have seen it, wherever they are. They would know what he had done. What had been done to him.

The District 4 people are looking at him with pity in their eyes. Louis contemplates punching every single one of them. He settles with glaring murderously at anyone who makes eye contact with him instead.

Louis accepts it though. He doesn't cry or scream or run. He doesn't even ponder all the ways he could kill Finnick. If explaining how their bodies had been sold advanced the rebel cause, which apparently it did since Finnick had decided to release the information, then Louis would deal with it.

He's not prepared for Harry to start shaking uncontrollably. Instantly, everyone around him clears a path from him to Harry. Louis walks forward hesitantly. “Haz?” He says gently. “Just keep breathing. You're all right.”

“They know,” Harry says blankly. “They're not supposed to know.”

“Everyone already knows Snow is scum anyway,” Louis says lightly. “This is just one more thing everyone can add to their list of reasons to hate him.”

“No, no, no,” Harry chants, his eyes growing wild. “Everyone knows I'm disgusting. No one is supposed to know. He has to take it back.”

“You're not disgusting,” Louis says anxiously, reaching forward to try to comfort him.

Harry flinches back as if he's been stabbed. “Don't touch me!” He is shaking even harder now, expression terrified, like a cornered wild animal.

Finnick must be saying something else interesting because Louis can vaguely hear people gasping the background, but all his attention is focused on Harry. “Okay, I won't touch you,” he says slowly. “Can you tell me what to do then? I want to help you.”

“Nobody was supposed to know,” Harry repeats desperately. “It was supposed to stop being real.”

“I know.” Louis finds himself saying helplessly. “Believe me I know. I try to erase it from my head every day. Like if I just don't think about it, that means it didn't really happen.”

Harry blinks slowly, as if he's surprised that Louis is even relating to him. “Me too. I...I can't shower enough. You would think after this long I could have washed their touch off, but then something like this happens and...”

“It feels like you can still see their imprints on your skin,” Louis finishes for him. “But it's crap Haz. No one gets to make us dirty. No one can leave some stupid permanent mark on your skin. We're clean and we're fine and it doesn't matter that people know what happened to us because no matter what they know we will still be clean.”

Harry slowly stops shaking, his expression clearing. “Sorry,” he mumbles after several long minutes. “I just got...my head...”

“No explanations needed,” Louis says firmly. “Now come on. I'm pretty sure you told me this is still the happy part of the story.”

Harry smiles slightly. “I'm very wise.”

It's not until much later, when he's got Harry smiling and laughing, that Louis finally retreats to a private corner and starts to shake. He thinks about how his sisters and mother know how disgusting he is. He thinks about all the people's touches that he can never wash off his skin. He wishes he knew how to make himself clean.

 

* * *

 

Things get better.

Because life in District 4 is strange in the sense that nothing is okay, but it's still the most okay it's ever been. Nothing is good, but it's still the best they've ever known. And they're happy. To the best of their ability, they are happy.

The frequency of the Capitol attacks begin to slow, and their injured heal. Niall gains a bit of weight, and stops looking like the lightest of breezes could break him in half. Harry is quieter at night, less prone to waking up the whole cave with his screams. Which is why it catches Louis off guard a bit, when the foghorns start blaring right before he'd been planning to have lunch. Even on the worst days, the Capitol don't usually attack in the morning, preferring the cover and stealthiness that the dark allows them.

He runs to collect his weapons nonetheless, pleased that the aircraft should at least be easily visible to shoot down. They are all in positions, barricades up and weapons drawn, when the realization that something is different washes over them.

Louis squints up at the sky. Instead of seeing the Capitol seal, the symbol of the Mockingjay is clearly branded on the underside of the approaching hovercraft.

Hushed conversations break out all around him, and although they keep their weapons raised, no one shoots as the hovercraft slowly eases into a landing.

“Don't lower your weapons,” someone barks out. “This could still be a trick.”

Louis tenses and keeps his finger carefully poised over the trigger as the latch on the underside of the hovercraft opens and a uniformed man disembarks.

The man appraises them all for half a second before extending a hand in greeting. “Commander Liam Payne of District 13. We are prepared to offer you our assistance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHERE WE ARE? WE ARE FINALLY IN THE MOCKINGJAY THIRD BOOK TIMELINE!!! CELEBRATIONNNN (except not really because hitting the third book basically just means everything gets even more depressing) BUT STILL CELEBRATIOOON
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments or on [ tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/), and thanks again to [ define-lying](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//) for beta-ing :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can't believe you weren't there,” Zayn chokes out.  
> “I know,” Louis responds.

“What did you say your name was again?” Liam asks him, brow crinkled in confusion.

They are sitting in the sand, effectively muddying up Liam's pristine uniform, while a large group of rebels brainstorm for what they fully intend to be District 4's very last, debilitating attack on Capitol forces. It's rather entertaining, mostly because Louis has concluded that Liam is completely clueless. Louis' skin and hair dye have long since washed out, there is simply no excuse for not recognizing exactly who he and Harry are. “Geoffrey,” he claims easily. “But you can call me Geoff for short.”

“Right,” Liam says slowly. “You look really familiar though, Geoff.”

“Can't see why,” Louis responds breezily. “Or maybe I just have a very common face? What do you think, Manuel?”

“Common face,” Harry says seriously. “A bit boring really.”

“Oy!” Louis barks in mock indignation. “I'll show you boring, Manny darling.”

“Bring it on, Geoffy baby.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows.

Nick throws a shoe at Louis' head. “That's enough flirting, children. We have grown up things to discuss.”

“The water seems unreasonably close,” Liam mutters nervously. “Perhaps we can reconvene in a better location?”

“You're not suggesting that a big, strong, District 13 military man is afraid of a little water are you?” Louis gasps dramatically.

“I'm not _afraid_ , Geoffrey, it just seems a little unwise-”

“So, we've determined that just defending ourselves against an attack is no longer good enough,” Millicent, one of the main District 4 authority figures, interjects, shooting Louis a pointed glare.

Liam nods and, with what seems to be a great deal of effort, he manages to turn his back on Louis. “If you just defend yourselves, the Capitol's losses are minimal enough that they'll keep coming back. District 4 is important to them and they're desperate to hold on to you by any means possible. We want their losses to be so devastating that attacking you will no longer be an option.”

“We've not exactly been going easy on them until now,” Nick points out. “We've killed entire hovercrafts of Peacekeepers, annihilated their submarine forces, brought down more jets than I can count. Ninety-eight percent of the Capitol people who come here to hurt us don't make it back alive. What more can we do?”

“Launch an attack,” Louis says to Liam slowly. “That's what you want us to do, isn't it? You're saying that defence isn't good enough, we need to be on the offence.” Louis raises his head and stares at Liam, daring him to try to contradict him. “You want us to go to the Capitol, don’t you?”

“Impossible,” Millicent says immediately. “You're forgetting that District 4 does not have access to expensive jets and bombs. In our own territory we can handle ourselves, but in the Capitol it would be a bloodbath.”

“That's not exactly what I'm suggesting,” Liam responds. “In District 13, we came up with a strategy that we think will be fairly effective here. In short, when the Capitol send forces to attack you, we send them right back.”

“They get bombed by their own jets,” Niall exclaims, his eyes lighting up in fascination. “How would that work though? Would we send our own people back in the jets? We would need a seamless attack if we're going to get the jets down without making them impossible to fly again.”

“We wouldn't need to send any people back in them,” Liam explains. “We've developed technology that will allow us to fly them via remote without ever leaving District 4. It wouldn't work for a precision attack, but for this it will do.”

“That is so cool,” Niall breathes. “We were working on developing stuff like that in District 6 before the war started, but it never got approved by the Capitol, so we didn't get very far with it.”

“So let me get this straight,” Millicent questions uncertainly. “We need to somehow thwart the next Capitol attack without harming their jets. Then equip the jets with remote technology and send them back to that Capitol, where they will presumably be let through without a problem because they have the Capitol seal on them. And as soon as we get them far enough in, we drop the bombs and let the jets be shot down with no losses on our part.”

“Exactly,” Liam affirms. “It will be the last time anyone tries to attack District 4.”

Niall laughs in delight.

 

* * *

 

“He's very uptight, don't you think, Haz?” Louis muses.

“Probably better to have an uptight military commander than an overly relaxed one,” Harry says with a lazy grin as they lean over the fire to prepare supper (Louis has strategically made sure to always get food duty alongside Harry so no one will ever discover the true extent of his cooking inadequacy).

“He's so easy to make fun of though.” Louis groans loudly as he pokes at the fire unhelpfully with a large stick. “I can't stop myself.”

“You're happy,” Harry says in a voice that is both shocked and delighted. “You're never like this, all jokey and making fun of someone. You're always mister uptight and serious.”

“I am nothing like Liam,” Louis says, highly offended.

Harry giggles. “Well not like him, but you are usually very serious and broody. Everyone is. I've never seen you properly relaxed before.”

“Not much to be uptight about right now,” Louis says with a shrug. “There especially won't be after this last attack is successfully completed. And I don't see how it could not be a success, what with Mr. High and Mighty District 13 Commander on our side.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks momentarily surprised, like he hadn't quite processed their position until that very second. “I guess the fighting is pretty much done...like...that will be it for District 4. I...are we winning then? Is that what this means? Not just District 4, but all the rebels. Are we winning?”

“I think so,” Louis answers uncertainly, he hasn't really dared to think about it too closely, lest he jinx it. “Liam said that the fighting is over in every district except 4 and 2. And obviously the Capitol is still pretty tightly guarded. But...like the majority of the districts are in rebel control.”

“And the Capitol get all their stuff from the districts,” Harry adds slowly. “Without food and wood and coal and transportation and clothes...”

“They'll be in a bit of a bind,” Louis finishes grimly. “Good.”

“Are you a little afraid that...” Harry bites his lip.

“What?” Louis asks. “The answer is probably yes at any rate.”

Harry shrugs. “I just keep imagining that when this is all over I go back to District 7 for my mom and sister...and they didn't make it.”

“No point in thinking about that,” Louis says quietly. “It is what it is. Dwelling and worrying isn't going to change anything.”

“I know that.” Harry rolls his eyes. “You don't always have to give me the nice, rational response you know. I know that worrying about it won't change anything, doesn't mean I'm not going to worry though.”

“Last time I was in the Capitol, Snow accused my sister of mass genocide and demanded that I give up my family's location,” Louis says darkly. “Trust me, I'm plenty worried about them. Doesn't mean I'm not going to give you the nice, rational response though.”

“When did that happen?” Harry questions in confusion. “You never told me about that. Was that why we had to leave the Capitol in a rush?”

Louis has managed to successfully avoid that very question for quite some time now, and he silently curses himself for walking right into it. “Sort of,” he says evasively. “I'd rather not talk about that actually.”

“Don't you think I deserve to know?” Harry sounds more curious than annoyed, but Louis knows perfectly well that there is both a right and a very wrong way for him to answer that question.

“It's not about deserving to know,” he stalls. “It's more that I don't think it's necessary for you to know.”

“So I only get to be informed about what you deem necessary for me to know,” Harry states.

Louis has apparently gone with the _wrong_ way to answer the question. “No, that's not what I meant-”

“What's for supper lads?” Niall careens his way into the cooking pit area and plops himself down next to Louis. “I'm starving.”

“Thank you very much for making supper,” Liam says politely as he follows Niall over at a slower pace. “It smells good.”

“Don't have to thank us,” Louis responds with a shrug. “We're on supper duty. This isn't us being nice.”

“Don't be a brat, Lou.” Niall leans forward to sniff excitedly at the pot. “Harry's the one who does all the cooking anyway, so I'm not sure why it's you that's turning down compliments.”

“That is offensive, Niall!” Louis gasps dramatically. “I've been slaving away over a hot fire all evening and this is the thanks I get?”

“Thought we didn't have to thank you?” Niall says through a mouthful of food as he shovels into the steaming bowl Harry had just handed him.

More people start to stream in, and he and Harry get to work handing out bowls of fish soup. Louis breathes a sigh of relief that he had successfully sidestepped Harry's questions. For now.

 

* * *

 

Although constantly present during the planning stages, Harry and Louis are not hugely involved in the actual enactment of the attack. Among the District 4 rebels alone, Louis considers himself to be an average shooter at best. When he factors in the hovercraft of highly trained District 13 soldiers, Louis accepts that he drops down the pole from average to irrelevant.

His and Harry's task for this operation, rather than trying to shoot down the jets, is to assist Niall with any necessary mechanical repairs and with implementing the remote control technology in the command centres of the jets. So, for the first time ever, when the foghorns begin to blare, he and Harry hide in the caves.

Niall is, unsurprisingly, already pacing back and forth and muttering anxiously to himself when they get there.

“It's gonna be fine, you've got this. Piece of cake. You were born for this job-”

“Niall?” Harry interjects hesitantly. “Anything we can do?”

“Nope.” Niall smiles at them. “Nothing we can do yet.” He laughs loudly. “The stress is killing me!” Several of Niall's other helpers look at him like he may be losing his mind as he continues to chortle mindlessly to himself.

“Right,” Louis says smoothly. “It's going to be fine mate. They'll have those jets down in no time.”

“Shouldn't have let them do it,” Niall grumbles. “They're going to shoot them down and cause all sorts of damage and expect me to be able to just magically fix it. Well there's not much I can do if they manage to flood the engine so they can just go fuck themselves-”

“Alright,” Harry cuts in. “Lets not panic-”

Loud shots start to resonate through the cave. “They've probably cracked one of the wings.” Niall moans loudly. “There's no way they haven't cracked at least one wing.”

“Are a lot of our people going to die in this attack?” One of Niall's fangirls asks fearfully.

Niall is too busy pacing to even deem that worth a response

“Everyone will be fine,” Harry reassures the girl kindly. “We've gone over this attack a billion times. And if anyone does get hurt, Nick is a very good doctor.”

The shooting and yelling outside continues for at least half an hour. Without the adrenaline rush that usually accompanies defending an attack, Louis is mostly just queasy. Harry appears to be distracting himself from his own anxiety by using all his energy to calm Niall down. It's a futile task, as by twenty minutes in Niall is lying spread eagle on the damp cave floor and moodily throwing rocks against the wall.

Finally, after what feels like an interminable amount of time, everything seems to go quiet. Louis feels his pulse begin to race. Despite their general optimism towards the attack plan, the fear that something is going to go terribly wrong never really goes away.

“Do we go out then?” Harry asks tentatively.

Niall, who had not stopped fidgeting and trying to leave the entire time they've been in the cave, is surprisingly still. “Maybe?” He says uncertainly. “I thought they were going to come get us.”

“Boys!” A voice booms. “Get out here.”

Niall scampers to his feet and they all quickly flood out of the cave, blinking rapidly in the sudden sunlight. Niall is surprisingly calm as they watch him survey the situation- smoking engines and cracked wings and mangled bodies of District 4 casualties littering the blood soaked sand.

“Get the bodies out of the jets,” Niall snaps abruptly. “I can't connect the remote circuit to the commander box with the pilots slumped and bleeding all over the control panel.”

Everyone else is busy assessing injuries and checking pulses; their part of the mission already over. Louis takes a huge gulp of fresh air and tries to hold his breath as he tiptoes through the bloody sand and hoists himself up into the cockpit of the first jet. The pilot's corpse is slightly charred, a detail that Louis tries not to contemplate too closely. Instead, he swiftly unbuckles the man from his seat, grabs the cleanest part of his uniform, and thrusts him out the open door where he lands in a heap on the sand.

His brain turns off somewhere around the time he opens the cockpit door on the second jet and a head rolls out and lands at his feet. From that point onward he works on autopilot. He disposes of bodies efficiently, passes tools to Niall, and repairs external damage to the jets as best as he knows how. Louis barely dares look over at how Harry is faring, slightly afraid of what he will see.

He's not even sure how much time has passed when he finally realizes that his part of the mission is over. Engines are thrumming, and new people are already arguing over flying strategies and the difference between left and right.

Louis looks over at Harry and swallows hard at the sight. He's covered head to toe in blood, grease and sand. His eyes are blank as he watches the jets take off into the now dark sky.

“It'll drop the bombs on civilians,” Louis finds himself saying stupidly. “Little kids in their beds and teenagers out drinking and parents at the supper table.”

Harry glances up at him. There's a smear of dark blood across his forehead and Louis can see the carefully repressed panic behind every movement. “Just don't think about it,” Harry responds tonelessly before he turns on his heel and walks back into the caves.

 _That's my line_ , Louis thinks blankly.

 

* * *

 

“We'll be safe here Niall,” Louis tries valiantly to explain. “ _He'll_ be safe.”

The fighting is over in District 4. Truly over. It is a time of peace and rebuilding for all the citizens who have already lost so much. It is also time, according to Liam Payne, for Niall to be put to use in District 13.

“I can't leave without you and Harry,” Niall says, sounding upset. “You're my team.”

“I'm not saying no, Niall,” Louis says in frustration. “I just...don't know yet. Everything is good here. We could be happy.”

“It's not over yet,” Niall responds sharply. “As much as this district might like to pretend it is.”

“If we go to District 13 with you...” Louis tries to work out the feelings he wants to convey. “It won't be like it is here. Harry and I will actually be treated as victors. We'll be like Finnick and Katniss. Stuck in all the propos and stress and drama, prodded and poked like puppets. It'll be the same as the Capitol, just a different set of faces behind the camera.”

“You don't know that,” Niall says. “And what about your friends? What about Zayn? Are you honestly telling him you won't go, even to talk to him? Even to find out what's happened to your family?”

“Of course I want to go,” Louis snaps. “But I can't make that choice for Harry. I can't take this away from him.”

“You're not making any choice for him!”

“Yes, I am,” Louis mutters. “If I go, then he'll go. I already know that.”

Niall shakes his head. “You need to pull yourself together Lou. He's fully capable of making his own decisions. If he chooses to go just because you're going, than that's on him. Not you.”

“I just…”

“Anyway,” Niall forges on. “You're wrong. Harry already told me he wants to go to District 13. He's only considering sticking around here for _you_.”

“He what?” Louis feels his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Why would he even want to?”

Niall shrugs. “This is the same kid who was fully prepared to volunteer for the games last year if everyone thought it would help out the team. He's absolutely terrified of fighting, and yet he continues to fight for like...the greater good or some shit. It's what Harry does. Thought you'd have clued on to that by now.”

“When it comes to him I feel like I'm always one step behind him,” Louis admits. “When do we leave then?”

“Tonight.” Niall does a tiny victory pump with his fist. “And don't you dare bail on me, Tomlinson.”

 

* * *

 

“You shithead,” Zayn states blankly. “You little fucker I swear-”

“Nice to see you too mate,” Louis says weakly.

“I can't believe you weren't there.” Zayn's voice is shaking slightly, despite how much Louis knows he must be trying to repress it. “I tried to wait for you because I just couldn't understand how you weren't there. How could you possibly have not been there and- just fucking hell, how are you here now? I-I don't...they said it was just Niall and some District 4 rebels- and I was already so happy that Niall was okay-”

“Yeah...we're the District 4 rebels.” Louis says, glancing back at Liam, who's been watching the reunion from a distance. “Surprise.”

“Wait, you're saying Manuel and Geoffrey aren't your real names?” Liam exclaims sarcastically. “You don't say. What a total and complete shock.”

“You knew?” Louis asks indignantly.

“I'm not stupid you know,” Liam says dryly. “The first time I met you guys, you introduced yourself as Manuel and Harry as Geoffrey. The next time we talked about it, you were suddenly Geoffrey and he was Manuel. You're really not as clever as you seem to think you are.”

“Hi Zayn,” Harry says shyly, ignoring Louis' affronted huffing. “I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you.”

Zayn, who still seems to be in a mild state of shock, nods dazedly. “You too mate. I've heard a lot about you.”

“Lottie!” Louis remembers all of a sudden the key question he needs to ask Zayn. He's ashamed of himself for taking so long to ask about his family. “What the hell happened with her? My family...?”

“Still in District 6, I reckon,” Zayn says nervously. “She...well she kind of got herself in some major shit. Stabbed a pretty important bloke. Blew up some stuff too, if the rumours were true. Last I heard, your family had gone into hiding. I tried to help...I really did Lou. But they were already gone by the time I'd found out about it.”

“She wouldn't stab someone.” Louis feels sick to his stomach. “She's just a kid. She's not big or strong enough to take down some huge bloke.”

“That's my girl,” Niall says happily. “Who'd she get?”

“What the fuck man?” Louis turns and glares at Niall. “That's my girl? Are you being serious right now?”

“Can we not do this right now?” Liam cuts in. “I'm supposed to take you lot directly to the hospital to get a quick check up before we determine your role in 13.”

Louis can barely respond. He feels so lost. He always knew his role in the Capitol, he knew how to survive there and he knew how to survive in District 6, and he even figured out life in District 4. But now, in a district that, for most of his life, wasn't even supposed to exist, he has no idea what to do. He's _underground._ What is he even supposed to make of that?

Liam leads them down what seems like endless identical corridors. The walls are all grey and every door looks exactly the same except for the numbers emblazoned on them. They pass a few people, all dressed head to toe in grey, who stare at them in fascination as if they are strange alien specimens.

Harry hovers close by Louis' side as they enter the hospital, nervously appraising the situation. At some point during their walk Niall had gone a terrible shade of ashen grey and he now looks as if he is seconds away from spewing all over District 13's immaculately clean hospital floors. Zayn starts rubbing Niall's back soothingly while whispering words that are inaudible to Louis into Niall's ears.

Uniformed doctors walk out of their offices at the commotion and fix them all with cold stares. “My name is Dr. Varnier,” a tall woman tells them monotonously. “We need to obtain information about your overall health. Would you prefer to be examined privately?”

“Together is fine,” Louis answers for all of them as Harry and Niall both stare at her with wide eyes.

“Very well,” she replies shortly, clipboard and pen in hand. “Age?”

“Uh...twenty-two,” Louis says, finding himself genuinely surprised by his age. He's unsure at what point he moved on from being a terrified sixteen year old contestant to an actual adult.

“Twenty,” Harry mumbles, and if Louis was surprised at hearing his own age said out loud he is absolutely floored by Harry's. He had known that none of them were children anymore. He knew that. He just can't remember how or when they grew up.

“He's twenty-one,” Zayn supplies for Niall, who still looks like he could be ill at any moment. Louis has no idea what is wrong with him.

From there they are weighed, measured and examined for what Louis deems to be close to an hour. “You're all underweight,” Dr. Varnier finally concludes.

“Really?” Louis asks. “I never would have guessed that myself.”

“Your diet will be adjusted accordingly,” she tells him. “Meanwhile, the three of you have been assigned to Compartment 432. You will find a full set of District 13 approved clothing laid out on your beds already.”

“Right.” Louis nods. “Umm...my mate Finnick? Do you know where his room is? I really need to talk to him-”

“It's time for bed,” Dr. Varnier tells him.

“Okay.” Harry smiles at her charmingly, the little shit. “But do you know what's going to happen with us? I mean obviously you seem to know who me and Lou are-”

“You will be debriefed tomorrow I expect,” she responds, already starting to clear up her stuff. “It is time for bed.” She holds up her arm to show them some inked numbers and words as if it is supposed to mean something to them.

Zayn and Liam seem to think it makes sense, and Louis feels too exhausted to even argue. “Alright,” he says tiredly. “We'll figure it out tomorrow I guess.”

Liam leads them down several more endless corridors, followed by a short elevator ride. By the time they reach Compartment 432 Louis could not tell anyone where they were if his life depended on it.

“You want to come in for a bit?” he asks Zayn hesitantly.

“I can't,” Zayn answers, running a hand through his hair. “It's time for bed. I've got to be back in my quarters or I'll get in shit. District 13 runs on kind of a tight schedule.”

Louis nods, scuffing his boots uncertainly as he stares at the ground. “Zayn-”

Zayn cuts him off by practically leaping forward as he throws his arms around Louis.

“Well this is romantic,” Louis mumbles as he tightens his arms around Zayn and buries his face in his neck.

“I can't believe you weren't there,” Zayn chokes out.

“I know,” Louis responds.

“Malik?” Liam whispers. “It's bed time.”

“Yes, Liam,” Louis snaps. “We've already been told half a billion times. I get it. District 13 is neurotic and apparently bed time is strictly enforced.”

“There's no need to be rude,” Liam mutters.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Zayn says, hastily mopping at his face with his sleeve and following Liam down the corridor before any of them can get a good look at his expression.

Harry waits for Liam and Zayn to turn out of sight before he carefully opens the door to their compartment. “There are real beds!” he whispers in an awestruck voice.

Louis smiles and tousles Harry's hair. “Nice. Sleeping on something other than rock should be a lovely change.”

They change into what appears to be District 13's issued set of pyjamas. It's a grey shirt and grey sweatpants, which is incidentally exactly the same as District 13 day clothes.

Harry doesn't immediately get into bed once they are washed up; instead he appears to be attempting to subtly watch Louis out of the corner of his eye. Louis realizes that he's waiting for him to choose a bed first so he can follow him to it. As if he's afraid that if he picks a bed first Louis might then go to a different bed. It's a mixture of amusing and heartbreaking.

“Come on, Haz,” Louis says gently. “Lets take this one.”

Harry breathes a very audible sigh of relief and quickly snuggles in next to Louis. “This place is weird,” he says quietly. “I'm not sure I like it.”

“We'll get used to it,” Louis responds. “It could be worse.”

“Hey guys?” Niall is standing over their bed, biting his lip as he looks them nervously.

Louis moves closer to Harry to make some space. “Hop in, Nialler.”

Niall happily squirms in beside him.

“You alright Niall?” Harry whispers. “You've not been looking so good.”

“I don't like enclosed spaces,” Niall admits shakily. “And we're just really far underground. And I...and the elevator and...”

“It's okay.” Harry reaches over Louis to squeeze one of Niall's hands tightly. “We've got you.”

“I'm sorry about Lottie,” Niall says to Louis. “I didn't mean to be insensitive...she's a strong kid though. I'm not worried about her. If anyone is going to survive this war it's her.”

“Thanks.” Louis closes his eyes tightly. “I'm just scared.”

“Me too,” Niall mumbles.

“Me three,” Harry whispers.

They all snort and Louis accidentally elbows Harry in the ribs. The bed really isn't made for three people and before long Louis can barely even breathe he's so sandwiched in. It's okay though. With Harry and Niall breathing slowly on either side of him, Louis thinks everything might be okay.

 

* * *

 

_7:00 - Breakfast_

 

A thoroughly unimpressed District 13 citizen collects them from their rooms early the next morning. Which is probably for the best, seeing as it is unlikely that they would have been able to find their way out of the confusing maze that is the underground tunnels on their own.

She barks at them to pay attention to where they are going so they'll be able to find their way back, an instruction that Louis is forced to disregard after their sixth consecutive turn.

“Got it!” Harry exclaims triumphantly as they finally seem to reach their destination. “It's left, left, right, left, right, elevator two floors down, right, left, right, left, downward stairs to the right, left, right.”

Niall reaches his hand up for a high five, still looking slightly queasy from their elevator ride.

“Stick your right arm in,” their tour guide orders, gesturing to what appears to be a hole in the cement wall.

Louis decides to assume that no one in District 13 would actually try to kill him as he tentatively places his arm into the hole. He feels a slight pressure on his inner forearm, and when he withdraws his arm his schedule for the day is tattooed on his skin.

“This is weird,” he mutters, as Niall and Harry wearily follow suit.

Breakfast is the first thing on their schedule, so they wander into the dining hall and each receive a cup of hot grains, a glass of milk, and a serving of mashed potatoes.

He scans the room hopefully, praying that Finnick is also here for breakfast. He doesn't see him anywhere. Not him, or Zayn, or even Liam. Louis reluctantly takes a seat next to Harry and Niall and tries to ignore the blatant stares coming from all directions.

 

_7:30 – Education Centre- Room 23_

 

“We're going to school?” Niall hisses. “But I already graduated!”

“No mate.” Louis points at Niall's arm. “Me and Harry are going to school. Your schedule says Special Weaponry.”

Niall pales significantly. “But I want to stay with you guys.”

“You're pretty important to them Niall,” Harry reminds him kindly. “Me and Lou don't have a whole bunch of mechanical skills they can use.”

“Zayn will probably be with you,” Louis adds helpfully.

Niall reluctantly allows them to separate, but Louis can't help but feel guilty as he watches Niall stare forlornly after them.

He's smiling before long, however, at Harry's uncurbed enthusiasm about going to school. He's almost shaking with excitement by the time they get there. “In District 7 we're out of school by the age of twelve,” he confesses. “We're sent to go work in the woods.”

Louis is surprised. In District 6 children are encouraged to stay in school for as long as possible, usually until at least eighteen. He supposes that's the difference between living in a district that works on complex machinery and living in a district that chops down trees.

Although Louis had been excused from school by the age of sixteen, as soon as he had won the Hunger Games, he can safely say that this class is unlike any that was offered in District 6. It focuses on gun assembly and usage. Seeing as he and Harry had spent the last month and a half using a variety of different firearms, they speed through the class with flying colours. The teacher gives them an approving nod and Harry beams in delight at his accomplishment.

District 13 might not be so bad.

 

_9:30 - Physical Fitness Centre_

 

He's not a huge fan of having to run five kilometres or of the intense weight training that follows it. It's doable though. He and Harry are both in decent enough shape, which is more than can be said for some of the District 12 refugees training alongside them.

“I think we're doing alright? Aren't we?” Harry asks him anxiously. “I don't want to fail anything.”

Louis rolls his eyes but smiles at Harry fondly nonetheless. “I don't think they're going to fail anyone Harry.”

“They could,” Harry protests obstinately. “People failed out of school all the time in my district.”

Louis doesn't argue, because he knows that's how you manage to assimilate in new places. In the Capitol and everywhere else. You cling to every bit of normality you can find.

 

 

_11:00 – Command_

 

Niall, Zayn and Liam are all waiting for them in the Command Centre when they arrive. So is District 13's leader, President Coin, which is more of an unpleasant surprise than anything else.

“I hear you're doing very well in training,” she tells them.

Harry, who had been beaming in pride at that very fact minutes earlier, simply shrugs. “I suppose,” he says. “It's fairly simple stuff.”

Louis smirks and resists the urge to give Harry a nod of approval. Despite notoriously bad acting skills, Harry appears to have finally mastered the art of impassiveness.

“Well, you're by far the best victors we've dealt with yet,” she grumbles. “It's truly unfortunate that we've already done a memorial propo for the two of you.”

“You have?” Louis asks blankly.

“Yes, yes,” she says vaguely. “To outline the cruelty of the capitol and create stronger bonds with District 6 and 7.”

Harry blinks rapidly. “But that means my family thinks I'm dead-”

“Everyone thinks you're dead,” the president says briskly. “You should be pleased. It means no one is looking for you and your families will not be harmed or tortured for information on your whereabouts.”

“You're actually not going to use us?” Louis says in shock. Every possible scenario he had considered had involved having his victor status exploited by District 13.

“We believe it would be unwise at this time,” she informs him. “We already have momentum and support on our side. Admitting that a murder we blamed on Snow was actually a lie will do nothing to help morale. For now, we will say nothing about you.”

That sounds like a good enough plan to Louis. “I'm good with that.”

“And agreeable as well,” she laments. “Why can't they all be like you?”

“Where is Katniss?” Harry asks, scanning the room as if he expects her to pop out of a dark corner.

“Fighting in District 2,” the president responds shortly. “She couldn't handle being here with Peeta. She's a very weak girl, mentally.”

“Peeta's here?” Louis demands. “Damn, we're out of the loop.”

“It was a necessary rescue mission,” she says. “There were no other options.”

“We have something else we thought you could be a part of besides victor stuff,” Zayn cuts in apprehensively. “I mean only if you want to, obviously. But I'm in charge of piloting one of our battle crafts, and Liam is our military commander, and we've recruited Niall to be in charge of air weaponry. And we thought if you wanted, you could try to get assigned to us as soldiers.”

“The five of us would be the ultimate dream team.” Niall grins at them excitedly.

“You will have to pass an examination in order to qualify for this mission as a soldier,” President Coin informs them. “But if you continue to train well for the next few weeks, I doubt it will be a problem.”

Louis gnaws at his lip uncertainly. He's not entirely sure Harry can handle being in another war zone scenario.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” he asks Harry under his breath. “Please answer me honestly.”

“Yeah,” Harry says with wide eyes. “I want to be able to help.”

“I know you want to,” Louis whispers. “I'm asking whether you feel like you're mentally capable of helping.”

“Don't do that thing you do, Louis,” Niall says loudly.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “What thing do I do?”

“Underestimate the people you love.”

Louis frowns. He doesn't think he's underestimating Harry. He just wants Harry to be able to regain something of a normal life once this is all over. He doesn't want Harry to be so fucked up in the head that no amount of peace will ever make him okay again. More than anything, he doesn't want Harry to become _him_. And he's deathly afraid that it's already too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii guys. Bit of a filler/change of location chapter. Buuut I have actually already started working on the next chapter, so there should be more exciting stuff coming soon :) As always, leave comments and let me know what you think
> 
> [ my tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/), [ super awesome beta](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has never seen Finnick Odair cry. But he sees it that day, in the dark, grey corridors of District 13. He sees it, and he cries too.

“They've got him chained to his bed?” Louis asks in an appalled voice as he stares at Peeta through a one-way window. “Is this for real?”

Two days into their stay in District 13, he and Harry had both found themselves asking to see Peeta Mellark, mostly, he thinks, as their own private way of coming to terms with what was happening. Peeta was this important, well-known victor who was crucial to the rebellion movement, and yet neither of them had ever even met him. Louis is now wondering whether never meeting him might be the wiser choice.

“He's a danger to himself,” one of the doctors says in annoyance. “We're not sadists. He's not chained up without reason.”

As if sensing that someone is talking about him, Peeta begins to thrash around on the bed, screaming deliriously as his eyes frantically flit from wall to wall.

Niall looks somewhat put out. Louis is fairly certain he had only come along in the hopes of being able to commiserate with Peeta on the horrors of Snow's dungeons. It's all Niall and Johanna have been talking about for the last day and a half, and somewhere in between discussions of electric shocks and whip marks they had apparently become the best of friends.

“I guess you can't add him to your survivors club quite yet, Niall,” Louis sighs, trying not to focus too much on Peeta's muffled screams.

“I don't know, I hear he's been doing much better lately,” a voice that Louis recognizes all too well speaks up from behind Louis' shoulder.

“You fuckhead!” Louis swears loudly as he turns around and comes faces to face with Finnick Odair. He can feel an embarrassingly large grin stretch across his face. He had been anticipating running into Finnick soon, but he still feels strangely shocked and delighted that it has finally happened.“Can't say I was sure I'd ever see your ugly mug again.”

“Please,” Finnick scoffs, his expression mocking but his eyes wide and childish with excitement in a way that is entirely new. “Your world would be an emptier, less beautiful place without my divine features.” They beam at each other for half a second before Finnick pulls him into a crushing hug. “Sorry I wasn't here to greet you days ago. Everyone still thinks I'm clinically insane, so they don't tell me anything.”

“Wait...are you saying you're not clinically insane?” Louis demands. He feels light, somehow, as he jokes with Finnick. It is strange but not at all unpleasant. “I feel like my whole life has been a lie.”

“Oh shut your trap,” Finnick says good naturedly, and Louis struck once more by how different he is. He can't put this finger on it, but everything from Finnick's smile to his general demeanour is strikingly dissimilar from how Louis has always known it to be.

“Hi Louis,” a shy voice comes from behind Finnick, and Louis realizes with a start that Annie has been hidden behind him this entire time.

“Hi darling,” Louis smiles and opens his arms from a distance so Annie can choose whether to hug him or not. She leans into his arms with a tentative smile. “It's nice to see you again sweetie. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“It's nice to see you too Lou,” she says, curling backwards into Finnick's embrace. “Finn says you were in District 4?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles at her. “It's beautiful there. Harry and I quite enjoyed it, all things considered. You're lucky to call it home.”

Harry is appraising Annie curiously as he shoots her a tiny smile. “Hi, I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you.”

She looks at him nervously for a second, before evidently deciding that Harry is not scary. “It's nice to meet you too.”

Louis finally realizes, as they all funnel out of the Peeta viewing room to go for lunch, what is so strikingly different about Finnick. For the first time in their entire friendship, Finnick actually looks happy.

 

* * *

 

It's so easy to fall back into the rhythm of spending all his free time having private conversations with Finnick. The main difference between now and the past being that instead of hushed whispers and repressed fear, their conversations are now full of smiles and laughter. Louis knows that Harry probably feels a bit left out, but there is something easy and refreshing about having a close friend who understands everything about the games but who Louis is _not_ always thinking about kissing.

“I'm going to marry her,” Finnick tells him one day, without explanation or elaboration, because while some things have changed, the way they talk about their feelings never really has.

Louis nods, because of course Finnick will marry her. They are soul mates. Everyone knows that. “When?”

“Soon,” Finnick answers. “Plutarch thinks it will raise group morale, and make a good promo video.”

“And what do you think?” Louis asks.

Finnick shrugs, trying and failing to seem blasé about the whole thing. “I think I just really want to marry her. I've always wanted to marry her.”

“Then lets be thankful for Plutarch's shallow ulterior motives,” Louis grins. “Really, though, I'm happy for you, mate.”

“It feels kind of surreal,” Finnick admits. “Like this can't actually be happening to me. I know I've never done anything to deserve her. She's a thousand times too good for me. I feel like I'm making her dirty just by being near her.”

“That's stupid.” Louis decides. “No one _deserves_ anyone. You love each other. That's enough.”

Finnick snorts. “Like love is ever really enough, though. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my entire life, and I'm way too selfish to ever let this go, but that doesn't just erase all the bad things that I've done. I know what I am. And I know she's better than me.”

Louis frowns, because this is wrong and false and bad in every way that he can't quite put his finger on. “Be selfish,” is finally what he settles for, even though he knows it's not nearly good enough. “Be selfish, and be happy. And stop saying stupid things.”

Finnick lets out a tiny, genuine laugh. “You calling me stupid when I come to you for heartfelt advice is what I live for. I've missed you, Tomlinson.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Right back at you, Odair.”

 

* * *

 

_Louis' first year as a mentor is also the year that Annie Cresta wins the Hunger Games._

_His tributes that year die due to an inability to swim, of all things. He remembers going to a pool in the Capitol after the games are over,_

_but before anyone is allowed to see Annie, and Finnick teaches Louis to swim. Like most things in life, it feels like too little too late._

_Finnick had been strange that year, frantic and uncollected in a way that Finnick never is. Louis hadn't immediately realized there was anything special about his female tribute. It was Louis' first year; he had assumed Finnick was always like that._

_“She's lost her mind,” Enoboria tells them three days after the games have ended. Somehow, she is the first to find out. She’s always liked being the one to deliver terrible news. “That's why they've delayed the closing ceremonies and no one is allowed to see her. She's completely insane.”_

_Finnick says nothing, and Louis shrugs, because he feels on the brink of insanity most days anyway. “Lucky her,” he says thoughtlessly. “Maybe she won't ever have to mentor this way.”_

_Annie is lucky in that one aspect, Louis supposes. She never does mentor, she never has her body sold, and she gets to live out her life in District 4 with her family._

_Finnick is less lucky. The first evening that they let anyone see Annie is also an evening when Snow has Finnick booked with a wealthy older woman. Louis had believed Finnick to be almost impervious to these things, immune after years of systematic sexual abuse. It comes as a shock to him when Finnick attempts to refuse, pleading with anyone who will listen to reschedule._

_“What is wrong with you?” Louis demands when he finally manages to corner him. “Did you know this girl or something?”_

_Finnick stares at him blankly, as if at a loss for words. Then he walks away. Louis peaks into his room later that night and sees Finnick getting styled, preparing himself for his evening booking. He's immaculate and well dressed and looks like he's never been more disgusted with himself._

_“I'll go see Annie,” he finds himself telling Finnick, even though he's not quite sure why. “I'll tell her that you'll be there to see her as soon as you can.”_

_Finnick stares at him for a long moment and then nods, a wordless thanks. That's the most they talk about Annie Cresta that year. The most they ever really directly talk about Annie Cresta's games. The next games, when Louis sees Finnick ignoring his tributes, Louis finally realizes how different that one girl must have been._

 

_* * *_

 

It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one when Katniss gets herself shot in District 2.

“That girl,” Johanna complains as they all sit around Johanna's hospital bed, reliving the moment. “She's dumb as nails, I swear.”

“Is that the expression?” Harry says with a frown. “Dumb as nails? I thought it was dumb as a hammer.”

“Dumb as a brick, I'm pretty sure,” Niall chimes in helpfully.

“It's dumb as a doorknob,” Zayn says, the ‘ _you idiots_ ,’ going mostly unsaid.

Finnick rocks Annie back and forth on his lap as they all talk. She's been in a bit of a state since they all witnessed Katniss being shot on live television. It had been unexpected, and not at all good for Annie's fragile frame of mind.

It's strange, because everything feels a bit like it did in the Capitol. Him, Johanna, Finnick and Harry huddled around a screen watching people get shot is not a new phenomena. The only real change is the addition of Zayn, Niall, Annie, and of course Liam, who is sandwiched in between Zayn and Niall looking a little uncertain as to how he got there.

“So, when are we going to hear the details of your top secret mission that you and Harry keep training for?” Johanna asks, rounding on the lot of them and making Zayn and Liam shrink under her gaze.

Louis shrugs. “Don't look at me and Harry. It's apparently top secret enough that no one has deemed it necessary for us to know anything about it.”

“Purely precautionary reasons, I assure you,” Liam says quickly. “Should you pass your training examination we will fill you in on everything.”

“You'll tell me everything, won't you Niall?” Johanna says convincingly. “You and I are a team, after all.”

“You know I would if I could,” Niall winks at her while Finnick and Louis make gagging faces at each other.

“We really shouldn't be talking about this at all,” Liam frets anxiously. “Why am I even here? I should be working.”

“Relax,” Niall rolls his eyes. “We're going to be risking our lives _again_ before too long. Don't we get a moment to chat, and joke and...well, watch the Mockingjay get shot I suppose...?”

Annie flinches at his words and Finnick glares at Niall reproachfully. Louis can see why they never hung out in groups this big while stressing out over the games. Tensions run too high, too fast.

“Can someone get me some more morphling?” Johanna snaps. “I'm getting a bit uncomfortable here.”

“I'm pretty sure the doctors are trying to take you off morphling,” Liam informs her hesitantly. “They think you're becoming too dependent.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Johanna shrieks. “Too dependent? Do they not remember how I was tortured for _weeks_ while they sat on their asses and did nothing-”

“Deep breaths,” Niall interjects. “Remember our support group talks.”

“Support groups?” Harry mouths at Louis, who can only roll his eyes.

“I'm going to bring Annie back to our rooms,” Finnick mutters quickly as he ushers her out. “She's not feeling very well.”

“We should get back to work Ni,” Zayn says, eyeing Johanna wearily. “We've still got lots to do.”

Niall groans but allows himself to be dragged out, Liam quickly slipping out along with them.

Johanna fixes Harry and Louis with a panicked stare. “I need morphling guys. I'm not kidding here. I-everything hurts. They can't take it away from me. They can't.”

“We know,” Harry says immediately. “We'll figure something out for you, won't we, Lou?”

Louis nods, because underneath all the bravado and jokes, Johanna is terrified and alone, and he and Harry are two of her best friends. “Don't worry. We'll get you something. What are friends for if not to enable each others irresponsible drug use?”

Johanna laughs, but Louis' not dumb, and he can see how hard she's trying to hold back tears.

“Johanna,” Harry begins, and Louis knows how much Harry probably just wants to give her a hug.

“Please don't,” Johanna pleads, and Louis also understands that absolutely nothing would be worse for her than crying in front of them.

“Come on Haz,” Louis gently tugs at Harry's arm. “We'll come back later.”

 

* * *

 

Harry, as it turns out, loves weddings. What a shocker. He immediately volunteers to select and train the choir of District 13 children who will be singing during the ceremony and after party. It's amazing to watch, because this is what Harry should be doing with his life. Teaching children happy songs, not dropping bombs and shooting people.

Louis is dragged along to every rehearsal, as Harry insists on hearing his opinion on every single song. Louis doesn't mind. Seeing Harry without the panicked gleam in his eye that is so often present feels like the best thing in the world.

“It's going to be a disaster Lou,” Harry rants as they help set up chairs for the wedding. “Someone is going to forget the lyrics.”

Louis can only laugh and ruffle Harry's hair.

“What's funny?” Harry pouts.

“It's not funny,” Louis says with a smile. “It's nice. Seeing you worry about normal things.”

“Oh really?” Harry asks drily. “Normal things? I've been ranting about a group of eight year old's messing up the words to a song no one even knows. I've seen you roll your eyes at me three times this morning. You think I'm crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Louis grins, pulling Harry closer to him. “Just delightfully unbalanced. And maybe a little neurotic. It's cute.”

“I just want everything to be perfect for Finnick and Annie's big day,” Harry whines. “It's got to be perfect Louis.”

Louis rolls his eyes (for the fourth time apparently) and tugs at one of Harry's stray curls. “It will be perfect. Have you seen the cheekbones on that couple? I'm telling you, there is something in the water in District 4 that causes them to produce unfairly attractive children.”

“Well we drank the water there for a bit,” Harry winks cheekily. “Maybe it will rub off.”

“On me maybe,” Louis jokes. “I get more handsome every day.”

“I think you've been spending too much time with Finnick,” Harry makes a face. “You're starting to talk like him.”

“Jealous?” Louis teases, and is gratified when Harry scowls. “Come on Haz,” he smiles. “Lets grab a seat before all the District 13 brats come in and steal them.”

“I'm the choirmaster,” Harry protests, although he follows Louis to a pair of seats agreeably enough. “They can't steal my seat.”

Louis chooses to ignore the choirmaster bit, he's already got enough ammunition to make fun of Harry with anyway. “I need you to be on high alert during the ceremony,” Louis tells him sternly as they sit down. “You need to kick me if I look like I'm going to cry.”

“You think you're going to cry,” Harry exclaims, looking unreasonably delighted by the prospect. “That's adorable.”

“Of course I'm going to cry,” Louis snipes, because he is _not_ adorable, thank you very much. “The love of my life is getting married. I just can't believe he's picking her over me.”

Harry glares at him. “You're not funny.”

“Who says he's joking,” Johanna teases, appearing out of no where and plopping herself down on the seat next to Harry. “Did you not know about the epic love triangle between Finnick, Annie, and Louis? It was heartbreaking.”

“No, I guess I didn't know,” Harry says passively. “Although I never told Louis about the love triangle between you, me, and Katniss. So I guess it's fair.”

“You've never even met Katniss,” Louis snorts.

“Or so I've had you believe,” Harry giggles.

“I think Katniss is in enough love triangles already boys,” Johanna says, and suddenly all three of them are doubled over, laughing with the absurdity of the entire situation. Laughing with the absolutely ridiculousness of the fact that they are happy and fed and clothed at the wedding of one of their best friends.

As if on cue, Finnick walks out and takes his place at the altar. He makes a face at them as he passes. It's such a ‘ _can you believe this is actually fucking happening to me I am so lucky’_ face that half of the audience makes cooing noises. Johanna and Louis, being the amazing friends they are, pretend to gag.

He and Harry had never attended a District 4 wedding, as there had been a few bigger priorities during their stay there. Still, the wedding manages to remind Louis of District 4 in all the best ways. It's not as if he can hear the sound of crashing waves or feel the dampness of the air or inhale the scent of fish and salt water. In that sense, maybe this is actually nothing like a District 4 wedding. It is more the sense of calm Louis feels- the way that smiles are open and laughs come easily- everything about the atmosphere brings back memories of huddling in damp caves and eating burnt fish, grease dripping down his face and sand getting stuck between his toes, Harry curled up at his side.

It's absolutely everything Finnick deserves. Louis finds himself praying that this is only the beginning of the long, happy life Finnick and Annie are going to live together. He prays that it will be full of laughter and children and peace.

Harry beams with pride as the ceremony ends and his carefully trained choir begins to sing. There's a rush to the dance floor, and it's uncoordinated and silly, but it is also breathtaking to watch. Because these people have so little, and yet they are dancing and smiling, and this is what Snow will see when the propo airs. He will see Finnick and Annie holding each other close, he will see the Mockingjay twirling her little sister around and laughing, and he will see that these people possess a hope and will to live that he cannot quench.

Without really thinking about it, Louis sprints up to the alter and steals a flower from the meticulously arranged bouquet. Harry stares at him curiously as he walks back up to him and presents him with the flower. “For you my dear,” he says in his best pretentious voice.

Harry grins. “You're giving me a flower?”

Louis shrugs. “I've never gotten to give you flowers on a happy day before.”

Harry bites his lip shyly and takes the flower from him. “Well thank you. It's proper gentlemanly of you.”

“You going to dance with me then Styles?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” Harry responds with a smile that stretches his face in two.

Harry sticks the flower behind his ear, drawing a grin from Louis as it sticks out ridiculously. Then they dance, and they eat cake, and they dance some more. And Louis wishes, just for a moment, that they could be in the propo. More than anything, he wishes Snow could see them dance.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Louis wakes up hard, his cock pressed against Harry's thigh. Morning wood is always uncomfortable, but with Niall and Harry both there he has learned to carefully ignore it's existence in order to avoid any awkward situations. A cold shower usually fixes everything. Niall is already up and long gone for the day though, and when Louis finally deems it appropriate to open his eyes, he's met with Harry staring directly at him.

“Morning,” Louis says uncomfortably. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Harry is still staring at him in a manner that is altogether too intense for Louis to appreciate.

He's about to tell him off for being a creep when he feels Harry shift slightly, and _great_ Harry is hard too.

“W-we could,” Harry stammers, looking slightly flushed even under the dim lighting. “Umm, I'm...”

“No,” Louis says, and he means it one hundred percent. “We're not doing anything. God Harry, last time was...it's not supposed to be like that anymore. I don't think so anyway. It's supposed to be like...normal. Like the sex we had with people back home before all this shit went down. We have a choice now. We should only be doing stuff that makes us feel good. Only stuff we want to do.”

Harry nods along with what he's saying and then blushes furiously. “I think it would feel good though, Lou. I feel good right now.”

“Well yeah,” Louis rolls his eyes, but deep down he doesn't really understand. “Obviously you're going to think that when you have a hard on.”

“No, I mean like I want to,” Harry mumbles. “I mean if you want to.”

“But why?” Louis stresses, feeling desperate and anxious and confused all at once.

Harry blinks up at him, his face devastatingly open. “Because I like being close to you.”

Louis feels lost, bewildered by the notion of a happy, content Harry still wanting to be touched. Not wanting to do it because of fear or a longing to forget, but just to feel close to Louis. Hesitantly, Louis brings up a hand and strokes Harry's cheek gently. Harry closes his eyes and leans into it, nose nuzzling against the palm of Louis' hand.

Louis' mouth is dried up, but he manages a nod. “I-alright. You just say something if we need to stop.”

Slowly, giving Harry ample time to take it all back and suggest they go for breakfast instead, Louis leans in and fits their mouths together. It's hot and a bit overwhelming, the way they are pressed chest to chest on the bed as their lips move against each other. Louis can feel Harry practically sighing into the kiss as he slides one hand over to where Louis' shirt is rucked up and tentatively strokes up and down the small of his back.

In response, Louis slides his hands down Harry's sides, feeling the new healthy softness at Harry's hips brought on by the District 13 diet. Everything is slow kisses and gentle touches, and Louis feels warm with it, confused and yet somehow content with the unfamiliar sensation spreading through his body.

He can feel Harry's stiff cock underneath his briefs, pressing hard and insistent against Louis' lower belly. He reaches down and pokes it, smirking into the kiss as Harry lets out a giggle. Harry squirms his way further down the bed, realigning himself so their crotches are pressed together and Louis makes a tiny choked noise deep in his throat as Harry's hips thrust forward involuntarily.

They begin to rut clumsily against each other, Harry disconnecting their mouths in order to pant breathlessly into the crook of Louis' neck. It feels like a different world. A world where they are the horny, inexperienced teenagers they never got to be. Harry whimpers and frantically squirms out of his briefs, then reaches forward to desperately try to yank Louis' off as well, pouting when all Louis does is laugh.

He does eventually reach down to slides his briefs off, groaning when Harry immediately jolts forward, causing their bare cocks to slide wetly against each other. The way Harry smiles giddily against his neck feels like everything Louis can ever remember wanting.

It gets even better as Harry works his enormous hand between their bodies, wrapping it around both their cocks and jerking them off roughly together. “You little shit,” Louis gasps, barely able to breathe with the intensity of the sensation.

Harry grins triumphantly as he starts moving his hand ever faster.

It feels both like it lasts forever and like it lasts not nearly long enough. They both get close around the same time, and suddenly Harry is moving his hand quickly and without rhythm, groaning into Louis' mouth as they both feel him spurt between them. He continues to move his hands over his own spent cock and Louis' still hard cock, whimpering with over stimulation as he tries to urge Louis to finish. With one last moan, Louis' come adds to the mess between them.

Louis feels happy and relaxed, ready for a nice cuddle before they go down to the dining hall for breakfast, but Harry lies back and tries to tug Louis over top of him like he's not ready for it to be over. “You can-” Harry pants, eyes wide and guileless. “You can keep going. Fingers, if you want.”

'Fingers?” Louis asks blankly.

Harry blushes. “Yeah, I mean I haven't...before. But you can.” His legs are limply splayed off to the sides and Louis can only stare at him, brain trying to process what is being offered.

“I-” He tries to imagine doing it, slicking a finger up and sliding it inside Harry, but his stomach hurts too much to even get past that. He feels cold and drenched in sweat all of a sudden, every last remnants of nice feelings melting away. “I can't,” he gasps, panicked. “I can't-oh god. I'll hurt you. It hurts, it hurt, I can't. No no no.”

Harry blinks, sitting up rapidly, “Lou-it's okay, you don't have to-”

“I can't.” Louis needs to leave. He jumps out of bed, wiping down his stomach and crotch area before yanking a pair of track pants on. He tries to leave, flinging the door open, only to stare down the grey corridor and remember there is no where to go. His breathing gets even more laboured, and he paces around the room, desperately shutting his eyes against the feeling of the walls and the ceiling and his airways all closing in on him.

“Louis,” Harry is suddenly at his side, running a hand soothingly up and down his back. “It's okay, this happens to me all the time. You just have to focus on breathing. In and out. Come on, breathe with me.”

Louis keeps his eyes closed as he focuses on breathing in time with Harry's voice. In and out. In and out. When he finally feels steady enough to breathe on his own Louis slumps to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles.

He feels Harry sit down beside him. “Don't be sorry,” Harry whispers. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have said-I mean...you always look out for me and make me feel so safe and you even told me that I could stop you at any time. But I forgot....you can say no at any time too Lou. I'm sorry, I messed up, not you.” He breathes in deeply, eyes filling with tears. “I just, I panic like that all the time. Over stupid stuff usually, and I feel like I'm going crazy. Like I'm losing my mind, and it's so scary and just...you make my head quiet down. When I'm close to you it feels easier to breathe. That's all I wanted.”

“You didn't mess up,” Louis says, feeling cold where his sweat is drying but much calmer now that he's tucked into Harry's side. “I didn't realize I was going to panic. That doesn't usually happen to me. I guess that...stuff, you know, scares me more than I thought.”

“I've got you though,” Harry says earnestly. “You've always got me when I'm scared, and I've got you when you've got a problem. That's what we do.”

Louis closes his eyes again against the tears threatening to brim over. “You're my favourite person,” he chokes out. “I'm sorry I'm screwed up.”

Harry sniffs, letting his own tears spill down his cheeks without making any effort to stop them. “You’re the best thing in my life,” he tells Louis in a trembling voice. “Everything scares me and everything hurts, but it's okay so long as I have you. So you can keep being screwed up and I'll keep being screwed up and it'll all keep being okay.”

“They won't take anything else from us,” Louis whispers the promise into Harry's hair. “This ends here.”

 

* * *

 

_It's the most pain Louis has ever been in. He feels like his insides have been ripped in two. He can't even sit down, all he can do is lie on his stomach and try to remind himself to keep breathing. He kind of thinks he wants to stop. Stop breathing, stop trying._

_Louis tries to think what he did to bring this on himself. He'd gotten drunk in District 6 after the last games, slept with one of his only old friends who doesn't look like he wants to run away when he sees Louis. He'd known it was stupid at the time, but he had never predicted this._

_Finnick shows up in his room at some point. Louis can't pinpoint when. It's something they do sometimes, after a long night of doing things they would rather not remember. They meet up and sit beside each other in silence. Usually they will stare at a wall for a couple hours before one of them eventually leaves to get ready for bed._

_He feels Finnick standing over him for a moment, and then he is gone. Louis vaguely feels disappointed; he thought Finnick might stay. He comes back though, with a mug of tea and a pack of ice. Louis laughs a bit, almost delirious with pain, when Finnick coaxes him up to sit on the ice pack. It hurts even more, and he kind of wants to scream at Finnick to stop. He drinks the tea obediently though, because he doesn't want Finnick to leave._

_Louis falls asleep, at the time he doesn't understand how, because his brain is screaming at him but his eyes are closing. He realizes after that Finnick must have slipped some sleeping syrup into the tea. When he wakes up Finnick is still sitting beside him, eyes lined with exhaustion._

_Louis mumbles a thank you. They don't talk about it again._

 

_* * *_

 

Watching Johanna and Katniss attempt to train is the best entertainment District 13 has ever provided him with. Katniss can barely run a mile, Johanna can't even assemble a gun, and Harry and Louis like to sit and laugh at them from a distance. It's sad actually, because Johanna has flashbacks so violent and terrifying that her hands shake too hard to hold a gun, and Katniss' ribs are so bruised from being shot that she can't breathe properly long enough to run. That doesn't mean it's not easier to laugh at them than acknowledge the sadness..

Katniss and Johanna are still deep in their training when Louis and Harry have their final examination. They both find it easier than expected. Or he thinks they both do anyway. Louis had found it fairly simple, just some shooting and running. Harry's face is blank when he gets out, but he doesn't look scared or on the verge of tears, so Louis takes it as a good sign. He supposes District 13 didn't really need to make it hard for them. They are not actually extremely relevant. Who cares about the lives of two people that are already supposedly dead?

They are ushered straight to command to be debriefed on their mission. Louis feels caught off guard, for whatever reason he'd expected a small buffer period in between training and the mission. There isn't one.

“So we're the bomb squad,” Louis asks blankly as they try to explain their roles to him and Harry all while strapping telecommunication devices on their wrists.

“You are one of many teams we have stationed around the outskirts of the Capitol,” President Coin tells him patiently. “You will be informed of your targets individually once we have you stationed.”

“Is that really all you're telling us?” Louis asks in astonishment. “I would really appreciate a bit more information.”

“Liam can give you the full debrief on your way out,” Coin says impatiently. “He's your commander for this mission and will be responsible for answering all your questions. Meanwhile, you depart tonight, so you probably want to start preparing yourselves.”

“Tonight?” Harry squeaks.

“But we just got here,” Louis says in confusion, because that's the way it feels. Like he arrived in District 13 moments ago only to be shipped off again.

“We are at war,” Coin tells him coldly. “We have no time to waste.”

Louis feels bewildered as they are ushered out, Niall and Zayn shooting them apologetic glances as they stay back for more tactical discussions.

To his surprise, Johanna is hanging around the exit to the command room, apparently awaiting their arrival. She takes one look at Harry and pulls him into a hug. “I'm going to miss you kid,” she tells him quietly. It feels like such a private moment that Louis wishes he could just back away and leave. “Wish I could mentor you through this as well,” she mumbles into his ear.

“You are the best mentor I've ever had,” Harry sniffs.

“I'm the only mentor you've ever had stupid,” Johanna smirks before turning to Louis with a stern expression. “You take care of this kid alright?”

Louis nods. “Of course. You take care of yourself Johanna.”

She laughs harshly. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.” She pauses. “I'm going to stay with Harry for a bit. I think you have someone to talk to.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I think I do.”

 

* * *

 

_He's not quite sure how to go on._

_Louis won't go near morphling and has refused to ever even contemplate suicide because he knows what Snow would do to his family if he killed himself. Which makes it even harder because he has no idea what to do, sees absolutely no way out for himself. Living is unbearable and yet he can't die._

_Maybe if he could make his death look like an accident Snow wouldn't hurt his family. He could drown maybe. Or have something fall on him, like a fluke accident. But then he thinks of his family's grief, and he hates himself for even considering it._

_“Do you ever think about killing yourself?” He asks Finnick one day, as they watch Johanna Mason hack someone apart with an axe on the screen in front of them._

_“Every day,” Finnick responds, eyes never leaving the screen._

_“How do you keep living then?”_

_“I remind myself that I want to be here the day Snow dies,” Finnick says in a voice devoid of any emotion. He glances over at Louis for a moment, taking in his posture, and then goes and retrieves an icepack for him. “It gets better,” he tells Louis._

_“Really?” Louis asks._

_Finnick shrugs. “No. But you stop feeling it.”_

_Louis closes his eyes. They don't talk about it again._

 

_* * *_

 

He goes and finds Finnick.

It's hard to explain, because Zayn is his best friend, and Harry is his favourite person, and there are so many people that are so important to him, but Finnick is different. Louis owes him something intangible and unreachable. Finnick is his tie to the Capitol, the person who kept him alive, year after year, when all Louis wanted to do was sink into the darkness.

Finnick looks like he's been training, appearing sweaty and exhausted when Louis finally finds him. “Hey,” he says hesitantly, because he'd not quite thought through what he wants to say yet.

“Hey,” Finnick responds, and Louis knows that Finnick already knows.

“I'm leaving,” Louis says. “Tonight.”

Finnick nods. “Yeah, I should be leaving pretty soon as well, so long as I pass my examination.”

“Right,” Louis says slowly. “Can we just take a pause for a second. I need to think about what I'm going to say.”

Silence has never been a problem with Finnick, so they sit, and they say nothing. It takes Louis ten minutes, but he gets there.

“I'm going to tell you something,” Louis informs him. “And I know me and you are crap at being honest. But I'm going to tell you this because I think I'll regret it if I don't. And this is one thing I don't want to regret.”

“Okay,” Finnick looks unreasonably afraid, as if Louis is going to tell him what a horrible person he is.

“You are one of the best people I've ever known,” Louis says, and he means it. Means every word of what he's going to say. “Nothing that has happened to you has ever been fair, and I know you know that. But you dealt with it, and you rose above it, and you kept me going every second I was a mentor. I think I might have killed myself those first few years if it wasn't for you. But I didn't kill myself, and now I'm here, and I'm going to get to watch Snow die. And it's thanks to you.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “And you deserve her. Don't ever think you don't deserve her, because you are the best husband in the world. I've never seen anyone love better than you can. I don't even know how to love the way you do. So you were not being selfish when you married her. You haven't made her dirty, you've made her happy and safe and loved. And just...please never forget this. Any of it. Always know this, even when you feel dirty and crappy and even when you're remembering dead eyes and money trading hands...even then. Always know how much you are worth, and how much you have saved my life, and Annie's life.”

Louis has never seen Finnick Odair cry. But he sees it that day, in the dark, grey corridors of District 13. He sees it, and he cries too.

“Please love him,” Finnick finally manages, holding Louis' shoulder in a bruising grip. “You and Haz are going to be something. No fucking up and dying, alright? And if anything ever happens to me you have to take care of Annie. You have to promise me that.”

“Alright, I promise,” Louis mumbles, wiping furiously at his cheeks.

“You, and me, and Annie and Harry,” Finnick breathes in harshly through his nose. “We're going to go on ridiculous double dates when this is all over. And everyone who knows us is going to mock us. And Johanna is going to bust a lung laughing at us. But it'll be amazing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Louis laughs helplessly. “We'll be the grossest couples that have ever existed.”

The telecuff they had given him starts flashing on his wrist, and Louis knows he's supposed to leave soon. It feels bitterly unfair, that he had only just gotten to see Finnick again, and now they are saying goodbye once more.

But that's life, isn't it? No one ever really gets enough time to say goodbye to the people they love. You just get these brief, fleeting moments with people who change everything about the way you see the world, and then they disappear from your life forever, and you're left thanking God for every second you got to keep them.

“I'll see you later, Tomlinson.”

“You too, Odair.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. I'm extremely emotional about this chapter - because this is essentially the goodbye to Finnick Odair chapter. Louis will never see him again (except maybe in flashbacks) so yes I did cry while writing the end because I am pathetic. Buuuut I decided I wanted them to do a proper goodbye while they were both still alive even if it killed me to write. I felt like it would mean more than Louis just mourning him after he is gone. Because they are both Hunger Games survivors and they are used to saying goodbye to people long before they are even dead. So I think Louis would be smart enough to prepare for the worst and say goodbye to Finnick as if its the last time they will ever see each other. Umm but yeah I feel like this is really depressing? I feel sad about it anyway. So...sorry about that?
> 
> Please leave comments and tell me what you think. A few of you were eagerly awaiting the Finnick and Louis reunion scenes...so I hope I did it justice?
> 
> [ my tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/), [ super awesome beta](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis punches a tree. He punches a tree and his hand fucking hurts and before he can even think about it he is yelling into his headset.  
> “Let me fucking kill them! What are we doing waiting around, blowing up pods with cars? Let me kill all of them!”

Zayn is screaming.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and jams his pinky fingers into his ears. “Stop it,” he mumbles at Zayn's shadowy form. “Stop it now.”

Niall is screaming.

“Stop it,” he yells in response. “I said stop it!”

Liam is screaming.

Louis has had enough. “I asked you to stop,” he bites down hard on one of his knuckles, tasting blood. “Why won't you stop?”

“Lou,” Niall says from a distance. “Louis wake up.”

Louis opens his eyes, immediately scrambling for purchase on the ground as he tries to figure out where he is. Even in his half asleep daze, he is already subconsciously looking for a weapon. A knife maybe. A knife would do the trick.

“Louis.” Abruptly, someone is pinning his arms in place. “Calm down. It's me, Niall. You're safe.” Louis fights against the person's hold uselessly for a few seconds, and then goes limp as the room gradually comes into focus. He is lying on a shitty mattress in the storage room of an old bunker. Exactly where he's supposed to be.

It physically pains Louis to keep his eyes open on so little sleep but he manages to fight past the burn as he slowly lifts his head. “Sorry,” he coughs dryly, trying to pretend that he wasn't just searching for a knife. “Was I yelling again?”

Niall looks at him with a mixture of pity and understanding, and Louis studiously avoids meeting his gaze. “Bad dreams?”

“Aren't they all,” Louis answers grimly. He doesn't remember a time when he had good dreams. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Niall shakes his head. “We've got to be up now anyway. We were hoping to give you a few extra minutes of sleep but...”

“Thanks for trying,” Louis rubs his eyes and sits up in bed. “I'm good. Let’s go.”

“So what are they about?” Niall asks conversationally as they stumble out into the early morning sun. Louis shakes his head. This is nothing he wants to get into. “Mine are all about giant wolves trying to eat Theo and Greg.” Niall offers. “It's right awful.”

“Giant wolves?” Louis says quietly. “Could be worse.” Louis thinks he might prefer giant wolves to the horrors his mind is capable of conjuring up.

“Are yours like...” Niall pauses for a moment, considering. “Like Harry getting attacked and hurt or something?”

Louis shakes his head. “Harry's already dead in all my dreams,” he responds shortly.

Niall doesn't say anything else.

 

* * *

 

He imagines that he's dropping it on Lottie.

He's got an earpiece on, which is a nice way of saying he's got Zayn and Niall screaming into his ear almost one hundred percent of the time. Generally it's a mixture of panicked, “Everything is going to go wrong” groans and authoritative barks of “Drop it you arsehole.” So he drops it. Every time they tell him to, he yanks the red lever down, he hears a loud noise rumble beneath his feet, and he imagines his sister's screams.

She could be anywhere. His family could be anywhere. He has no way of knowing who he is killing each time he allows a bomb to drop. Children, mothers, fathers, grandparents. His mind chooses to make it his sister.

As the weeks pass, he kills his little sister in a hundred different ways. 

 

 

* * *

 

They have two different main locations where they are stationed. The first is an old abandoned bunker on the outskirts of District 1. It is where they store the vast majority of their bombs, hovercrafts, and weaponry. That's generally where Niall stays.

The second is on the outskirts of the Capitol. It's their main base during attacks. It's where they assess injuries or mechanical problems before or after an attack. Zayn and Harry generally stay there. Zayn because he's the most valuable member of their team and they don't actually want him on the aircraft when it's a high risk attack. Harry because someone needs to help Zayn, and Louis volunteered Harry for the job.

That leaves himself and Liam to go back and forth between stations and execute the actual attacks. Louis still thinks Liam is neurotic and annoying, but they have reached an understanding at this point. A sort of I won't get you killed if you don't get me killed alliance.

It's a precarious alliance, especially since Louis spends every day ominously sure that one of them is going to die.

It will probably be him.

 

* * *

 

Niall is a bit of a psychopath.

It's so early in the morning that the sun has not yet risen, and Niall is delightedly shouting commands at his army of greasy minions as they load an assortment of frighteningly large bombs and missiles onto the transport vessel.

“I think this one should be really awesome,” Niall says, eyes bright as he gestures to a few dozen parachutes. Louis' stomach turns. They resemble the parachutes that carry contestants’ donor gifts into the arena a little too closely. “They've got a different, individual bomb in each one,” Niall continues enthusiastically. “I wish I got to see them go off.”

“You wish you got to see-” Liam begins in confusion. Louis stomps on his foot before he can complete the question. _You wish you got to see it go off and kill hundreds of people?_

No good will come from that question being asked. Niall has an odd disconnect in his mind between the excitement of the weapons and their actual purpose. It's a disconnect Louis thinks probably comes in quite handy. How much easier would his life be if he could look down at far away ground and see a cool explosion, instead of the destruction it leaves behind?

“I'll tell you how it goes,” he responds to Niall instead. “Maybe we can even manage some pictures.”

Liam is already fidgeting, ready to leave. Niall's station is relatively safe, as the people of District 1 are not hugely likely to cause trouble. It's still enemy territory though, and an odd shooting by an angry group of civilians or an unscheduled Capitol attack is not unheard of.

“You take care,” Louis says, hitching his bag up higher on his shoulder and peering around. Liam's anxiety is getting to him. “We’d best be off.”

Niall pouts slightly. Louis suspects he enjoys their time there more than he cares to admit. It probably gets lonely, being so far away from both the action and the rest of the team. “Alright,” he says anyway, all fake cheerfulness and bright smiles once again. “I'll see you lot later.”

They amble back towards the truck. Louis shoots Liam a glare as he sees him try to discretely veer towards the driver’s side. “We have a deal Payno,” he says sternly. “You drive in the air, I drive on the ground.”

“But that's just because you don't know how to fly,” Liam protests weakly.

“And you don't know how to drive a truck,” Louis says. “It works out perfectly.”

“I just never had a chance in District 13,” Liam says. “It can't be that hard if you do it.”

They continue to bicker as Louis heaves himself up into the driver's seat and waits for their three guards to climb into the back with the bombs, guns cocked as they prepare themselves for the two and a half hour drive back.

It's not ideal, having their stock so far away from the target, but its better than accidentally losing all their supplies because they have them too close to Capitol forces.

The drive back is long and painful, mostly involving winding through dense forest paths and praying that they don't see people. Liam squirms restlessly beside Louis the whole time, peering his head out the window and starting at every rustling branch or cawing bird.

Louis snaps at him to not be so jumpy on a few separate occasions, but it's no use. This is why Louis insists on being the one who drives. He can't imagine having to sit tense for several hours, with absolutely nothing to occupy his brain besides the threat of an imminent attack. At least when he's driving he can focus on the path.

The sun is finally up in the sky as they pull into base camp. Before Louis can even tiredly stumble out of the vehicle, Harry is opening his door for him.

“Told you not to come over until you're sure it's us,” Louis says, his voice tinted with exhaustion. “Stop being stupid, Haz.”

Harry ignores him as he gently helps him out of the car. Louis glances up and sees the blue circles etched under Harry's eyes. Louis wonders if he's even slept a wink since he and Liam departed in the middle of the night.

Their camp is hidden under trees so dense that it is completely imperceptible from the sky. Although Louis knows that they are never truly safe this close to the Capitol, he still allows himself to momentarily relax into the circle of Harry's arms. “Niall says hi,” he mumbles.

Harry buries his face into Louis' generally unwashed, greasy hair. “Missed you.”

“Shut up Styles,” Louis says weakly, nosing at Harry's neck. “You're stupid.”

He thinks he might feel Harry smile against the top of his head. “Lets go have a nap.”

Louis allows himself to be lead away. They have at least ten guards on duty. A little nap with Harry won't hurt anything. Maybe he'll even manage to actually fall asleep for longer than twenty minutes. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

“You're still thirty degrees west of the target coordinates,” Harry's voice comes through both the speakers and his earpiece. Louis imagines his curly head hunched over their fancy computer equipment back at camp, tracking their progress.

“I know,” Liam says through gritted teeth. “I'm trying to straighten us out. Strong winds.”

“Make sure everything is locked in Lou,” Zayn's voice blares out next.

“It is,” Louis says, forehead scrunched in concentration. “I'm just waiting for us to be overhe-”

“Got it!” Liam crows at the same time as Zayn and Harry's voice yell out from the speakers- “Drop it!”

“Louis cranks down on the lever to disengage the bomb. “Did it,” he mutters into his headset.

They have but a second to breathe in relief before Harry's voice is filling the pilot's compartment once more. “Enemy jets to your right.”

“I'd make a quick exit boys,” Zayn orders sharply.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Oh right, because we were just planning on dawdling around up here.”

Shots whiz past them, and Louis thinks, as always, of all the people he never got to say goodbye to. All the people he will never see again. He thinks of his family and his friends and his Harry. He wonders if they will ever find his body.

They land safely in the end, they always do. But the thoughts never truly go away. His death never stops feeling imminent.

 

* * *

Sleeping after completing a mission is virtually impossible for Louis. His stomach twists and turns, his head hurts, and his mind is a canvass of blood and pain. The mere idea of even closing his eyes is laughable. Instead he walks as far away from the group as he dares and leans back against a large tree, a wool blanket drawn around his shoulders. He stares at what little he can see of the sky through the canopy of trees and feels his face slowly grow numb from the cold wind.

He hears the sounds of cracking branches behind him as someone lumbers towards him. He doesn't glance over. Louis can recognize the sound of Harry's clumsy footsteps anywhere.

Harry approaches and sits down next to him, deftly raising one of Louis' arms so that he can squirm under the blanket too. “Who needs sleep anyway,” Harry whispers, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “I, for one, enjoy your grey, bruised looking complexion.”

“Oh stop it with the compliments,” Louis says with a tiny smirk, mostly for Harry's benefit. “It might inflate my ego.”

Harry smiles and lets his head rest against Louis' shoulder. His eyes gleam in the dark, and Louis plants a quick kiss on his forehead.

“You know you're very handsome no matter what,” Harry says seriously.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Alright crazy. You should go to sleep.”

“Because that's such an easy thing to do,” Harry says, and Louis is reminded that he's not the only one who has something to fear when he closes his eyes.

“Well if you're not going to go to sleep then you might as well tell me a bed time story,” Louis finds himself commanding loftily. “Make it happy. And preferably have it involve an extremely awkward, prepubescent Harry Styles.”

“Once upon a time,” Harry says grandly, before stopping to muffle his giggles in Louis' shoulder. “Once upon a time there was a twelve year old boy with insanely curly hair that looked too big for his face. His name was Harry Styles.”

Louis nods. “Sounds like a solid story. Do continue.”

“Well...Harry had a best friend named Ed...and Ed liked this girl, right...”

Harry is a terrible storyteller, Louis almost points out. He talks too slowly and with too many pauses. But his voice is nice and Louis is enjoying having him pressed against his side, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

“So Ed forces Harry to go on this double date with him and Ellie and Ellie's friend....because that was the only way she would agree to go out with him. He wants them to all go out to this hookup spot where all the older kids go for midnight swims and make out sessions. Which was ridiculous because we were only twelve and obviously all the older kids would laugh at us...”

Louis snickers into Harry's shoulder.

“Anyway, Harry was very nervous about it because it was past his curfew and he knew his mom would be very upset if she found out he sneaked out. But he was a good friend so he did it for Ed. So they got to the little stream, right, and Ed is trying to get alone with El, and I was just talking to her friend about what hairstyles would probably look best on her-”

“Of course you were,” Louis mumbles.

Harry pouts. “Don't interrupt. But then I saw- I mean Harry saw, his sister Gemma making out with this really nice looking boy that little Harry had perhaps worshipped from afar for a little while...and so he maybe picked up a handful of wet mud and through it at them.”

“You didn't,” Louis gasped.

“I was young and stupid,” Harry frowns. “I wasn't really thinking. But then Gemma picked up some mud and threw it at me too. And we got into a huge mud throwing fight. And then she brought me home and we hosed ourselves off outside and swore to never tell on each other to Mom for this. The end.”

“Did your mom ever find out that her darling boy was actually a little trouble making, mud throwing miscreant then?” Louis says with a smile.

“Of course not,” Harry says indignantly. “Gemma and I know how to keep a promise.”

“You miss her.” Louis says, and it's not a question.

Harry shrugs. “She's my big sister. She's amazing.”

“I don't know much about her,” Louis realizes. “I don't know much about any of your family.”

“I don't know much about yours either I suppose,” Harry acknowledges. “I suppose we've been a bit preoccupied with the whole war thing.”

“That's all we are, isn't it?” It feels like a startling revelation to Louis. “We're people who were forced together because we had no where else to go and no one else to turn to. Our entire relationship is just a product of war. In any other world we'd have never even met.”

Louis can feel Harry shake his head minutely against his shoulder. “No. I would have found you even without all this. I would have found you in any world.”

Louis feels tears building up in his eyes and he blinks rapidly. “I'm so tired Haz,” he admits, voice heavy with exhaustion. “I'm always so tired.”

“Go to sleep then,” Harry says softly. “I won't let them hurt you.”

It's not clear what he's referring to. Maybe he means the nightmares, maybe he means the Capitol. Either way, Louis allows himself to be led back towards the tent.

 

* * *

 

They are not always dropping bombs of course.

Lately their main project has been forging a ground path into the Capitol. There are four different routes being formed – routes A, B, C, and D. Louis' team is responsible for route C.

The idea is for the rebels to build up to one final, decisive attack on the Capitol. When this attack occurs, it's important that the Capitol is completely surrounded by rebel forces. They must attack from the sky, from the water, and from the ground. Nowhere can be safe.

The problematic part of a ground infiltration is that the Capitol had cleverly set up pods all around the city. One wrong step on your way into the Capitol and an underground explosion will blow your legs off. Personally, Louis is a fan of keeping his legs exactly where they are.

They way they end up forging a path is pretty smart, if Louis does say so himself. They refer to it as the car bomb plan, and before long every team at every route is using it. It's fairly simple in reality. It involves breaking into one of the cars left behind by a terrified Capitol citizen, turning it on, putting a rock on the gas pedal, and letting it drive. It sets off every pod it passes over. When that car stops working, they advance to the point it stopped, and begin all over again with another car. It's slow, tedious work, but Louis is proud to say they are making progress.

He thinks in a week’s time they might actually make it into the Capitol. That's a terrifying thought in itself though, so he tries not to consider it too much. Turn on the car, let it drive. Turn on the car, let it drive. That's all he needs to know.

 

* * *

 

Losing contact with Niall is likely the beginning of the end. 

One second they can hear him chattering away through their earpieces, as clear as day, and the next second there is only silence. There are no screams or gunshots. No warning whatsoever. There is just nothingness.

Within minutes he and Harry are devising a plan to go back for him, and Zayn is sorting through their weapons to decide what they should take. At this point, he and Harry are not so much frightened as they are determined. They've saved Niall once; they can do it again.

“You can't go back,” Liam's voice is weak and his face pale, but the command comes through loud and clear.

“What do you mean we can't go back?” Louis glares at him. “We're going to go help him.”

“We can't,” Liam repeats. “They say we can't.”

“District 13 says we can't?” Louis snarls. “Well they can just go fuck themselves, can't they?”

“Best case scenario it's just a technical malfunction,” Liam says. “Worst case scenario we walk straight into a trap. Are you really willing to get us all killed for this?”

“We can't leave him to die,” Harry's voice becomes high pitched. “He's part of our team. We need to help him.”

“We can't,” Liam repeats once more.

Zayn, Louis and Harry all stare at him.

Liam takes a deep, shaky breath. “I can't let you. I have orders.”

Louis forces himself to remember all the times he has let people be hurt for 'the greater good.' He remembers every terrible, reprehensible thing he has ever done. It's the only way he can stop himself from punching Liam in the face.

 

* * *

 

Liam should have told him.

Louis has no contact with District 13. He doesn't see the news or promo shots or death tolls. Everything he learns is through Liam, the only one of them who is actually in contact with Coin and District 13. Which is why it is absolutely unforgivable that Liam wasn't the one to tell him.

He overhears the guards talking about it. Whispering about where Katniss was, why she would go against orders like this, how could she live with herself after getting all those people killed? Then the four words that would stick with him for the rest of his life and in some ways shape his entire future: “Finnick Odair is dead.”

Liam should have told him.

 

* * *

 

Harry cries. Louis is still aware enough to notice that Harry is crying. Harry had been mates with Finnick for years now. Of course he cries at the news of his death. Louis feels nothing.

“Louis?” Harry says tearfully. “I'm so sorry. I can't believe-”

Louis punches a tree. He punches a tree and his hand fucking hurts and before he can even think about it he is yelling into his headset.

“Let me fucking kill them! What are we doing waiting around, blowing up pods with cars? Let me kill all of them!”

It doesn't make him feel any better. He doesn't even know if anyone in District 13 is listening.

“Lou!” Harry is yanking his hands down to his sides, probably trying to prevent him from punching another tree. Smart kid, that Harry Styles.

“I want to kill them,” Louis mumbles again. “I want to kill all of them.”

 

* * *

 

And life goes on.

They continue the car bomb plan, because what else are they going to do?

Working with Liam is almost unbearable at this point, seeing as Louis can barely even bring himself to look at him. His anger is irrational and misplaced, and Louis does know that, he thinks. That doesn't stop him from blaming Liam for everything that has gone wrong in the past week.

“Are you really going to keep ignoring me Louis?” Liam says angrily as they set their fourth car of the day in motion. “I was following orders. I didn't have a choice.”

“Orders to let Niall die, or orders to not tell me that my best friend was killed on some Mockingjay kamikaze mission?” Louis snaps. “You’re a fucking coward. That's all there is to it.”

“And you expect me to believe that you became a Hunger Games victor by putting yourself in unnecessary danger for others?” There is a very real undertone of fury in Liam's voice now. “By dying for some kid from your district or by letting the death of a friend cloud your judgement? Is that how you won the games?”

“Don't you dare talk about the games,” Louis snarls. “You know absolutely nothing about it. You were sitting nice and cushy in District 13 the entire time so don't you dare even bring it up in front of me.”

“Fine. I won't talk about the games. So long as you stop pretending you have some sort of moral high ground on me. I think a few years ago you would have made all the same choices as I am. And I don't know when you stopped listening to your head and started letting your emotions make your decisions, but that's your mistake, not mine.”

The car slows to a stop, having exploded at least ten pods, and Louis and Liam stand stalk still for a moment, breathing heavily. “Get another one,” Liam finally snaps, and he begins to move forward.

Five steps.

Five steps are all it takes. Five steps for their fight to evaporate from Louis' mind. Five steps for a fluke pod that forgot to go off when the car passed over it to explode.

Louis is flung backwards into the air and hits the gravel hard several metres back. He groans as pain flares down his spine and arms. His ears are ringing uncontrollably and his vision is so spotty that for a second he thinks he is back in District 6 and all he can see is the Justice Building exploding in front of him as he desperately searches for his sister. Then that image slowly fades away and the one, singular, bloody shoe lying beside him comes into focus.

“Liam!” He screams through the smoke. “Liam!”

He coughs and lifts the collar of his shirt to try and cover his mouth. His eyes are watering so badly that he can barely see a thing, but as he squints through the haze he can gradually make out a slumped figure. He stumbles towards Liam, wheezing and coughing into his collar as he pointlessly tries to wave the smoke away with his spare hand.

Liam's legs are bleeding badly, enough so that Louis is forcing back a retch after just one glance at the mangled mess. He quickly averts his eyes and focuses instead on hiking Liam's unconscious body up from under the armpits and dragging him into the backseat of the next pod car they were going to use. He knows their actual transport vehicle is around here somewhere, but he is too panicked to even begin to search for it.

They have a medic at camp, is all he can think as he leaps into the driver's seat and jams his foot down on the gas. They have a medic at camp. Louis prays he won't get there too late.

 

* * *

 

He almost runs over a body.

Louis barely spots the sprawled shape in time to slam his foot down on the breaks, coming to a screeching stop. He is afforded a moment of motionless confusion before his wind shield shatters before his eyes, a bullet embedding itself into his seat mere inches to the left of his head.

He grabs his gun from the passenger seat without a second thought, hastily hooking it over his shoulder and cocking it before scrambling out his door. Louis is met with a blood bath. There are bodies strewn everywhere. Louis realizes in horror that the figure he almost ran over is Zayn. There are several guards still shooting in defense, and then there is Harry. Harry who appears to have ran out of ammunition for his gun, and is now swinging his axe around wildly as his attackers drop like flies.

Louis spends half a second taking the scene in, and then he opens fire. It's the type of situation that features itself in almost all of their nightmares. Blood and death and horrible loss. But in the moment, both he and Harry are frighteningly collected. He watches one of his shots pass cleanly through a man's throat, witnesses Harry sink his axe into another man's chest, and all he can hear or feel is his own blood pumping through his head.

“Get Zayn to the hovercraft,” Louis pants to Harry amidst shots, refusing to even consider the fact that Zayn's life might already be out of their hands. “I'm grabbing Liam.”

He can barely manage to orient himself back towards the car, so thrown off by the maze of bodies lying before him. The most disturbing part of it, in a war, is that it is not entirely unfamiliar. Sixteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson could recognize this picture in an instant.

Louis is not a child anymore, though. Adult Louis will manage to save the people that matter. Adult Louis is not playing a game; he is fighting in a war with very real and serious consequences. With a burst of adrenaline he weaves his way through the fallen corpses and wrenches Liam out of the car. One of the guards runs back to help him, and together they manage to carry Liam to the hovercraft. Harry helps hoist them all up, displaying a type of brute strength that Louis suspects is due to adrenaline more than anything else, and then he attempts to close the hatch door behind them.

Before Harry gets a chance, a hand appears over the edge, gripping on tightly. Louis leans down and makes out a Capitol soldier, preparing to pull himself up into their aircraft. Harry doesn't hesitate before bringing his axe down on the man's hand. The solider drops with a loud thump, and for a moment Louis is staring at a set of twitching, detached fingers. Then Harry is booting them out as well and slamming the hatch shut.

Louis draws his eyes away from Harry for long enough to notice that Zayn is awake. Awake and staring at him and Harry as if he has never seen them before. Actually, most of the surviving guards are staring at them in the exact same way. Louis realizes with a sort of detached amusement that no one has seen them in this light in a very long time. They are used to dimples and tears and scared boys who scream in their sleep. Almost everyone, including Harry and Louis themselves, had managed to forget who they actually were.

Their lives might be a series of panic attacks and guilt and never-ending nightmares. They might cry when they think of their victims and they might spend days on end hyperventilating as they remember the things they have done. But they are also the victors of the 69th and 72nd Hunger Games. They are capable of unforgivable acts. And in a kill or be killed situation, they will always choose kill.

 

* * *

 

Louis does not know how to fly a hovercraft. That was firmly Liam's domain.

“I don't know what to do,” Harry's voice is shaky and Louis glances down at where Harry is crouched beside Liam, glancing back and forth between his tiny first aid kit and Liam's destroyed legs. “Louis, I don't know what to do,” his voice is verging on hysterical and Louis can only shake his head. He has no answer for him.

Someone from District 13 is barking orders at him through the speakers, giving him bombing coordinates. Telling him this is the end. The final attack.

Liam has regained consciousness, and his screams of agony consume all of Louis' senses and become the only thing he can hear. Harry is rifling frantically through his kit, looking for painkillers, for morphling, for anything to numb Liam's pain. Zayn appears to have lost consciousness once more, as his eyelids don't so much as flutter as Harry presses a bandage to the blood seeping out from the side of his head.

The hovercraft jolts upwards, and Louis fumbles over the control once more. Liam's screams become even louder. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Louis mumbles, and he is crying openly now. He thinks they all are.

Through a glaze of tears he acknowledges that somehow, he has actually gotten them to the correct bombing coordinates. He chokes back one last sob as the realization that they are almost directly over the entrance gates to Snow's mansion overwhelms him. He doesn't know what to make of this information.

He feels Harry, suddenly beside him, squeezing his shoulder. His face is wet with tears, but he is staring at Louis in a way that Louis doesn't think he will ever forget. “Would it be horribly cliché to say I love you right now?” Harry whispers, wiping at his runny nose. There is a streak of blood running down the side of his head and his nose is somehow covered in dirt. Louis wants to hug him tightly and never let go.

He chokes back a tearful snort instead. “Yes, it would be. Absolutely, horribly clichéd, Haz. I would never let you live it down.”

“Okay,” Louis thinks Harry might even be smiling through his tears. “I won't right now then. Do we drop it?”

Louis glances at the screen that shows the scene below. Strangely, it looks like there has already been a wave of bombs dropped outside Snow's mansion. Louis doesn't have time to consider it too closely “Drop it,” he affirms.

Harry's hands, still coated with blood, yank down on the lever.

Dozens of little parachutes drop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW THIS IS LIKE TWO MONTHS LATE I AM SCUM. 
> 
> But there are only two chapters left! There is one final chapter in the mockingjay timeline and then an epilogue chapter that jumps forward into all of their futures. So that's exciting! I can't believe I'm actually almost done. As always, pleeeaase let me know what you think of this chapter and I will be eternally grateful for your feedback :)
> 
> [ my tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/), [ super awesome beta](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their names are neatly typed out that morning, one after another. Johanna Tomlinson, Charlotte Tomlinson, Felicite Tomlinson, Phoebe Tomlinson, Daisy Tomlinson.

It's difficult to accept the complete obliteration of your own existence. Louis Tomlinson is gone forever. He will live on as only a tragic character, a tear-stained memory in the minds of the few family members and friends that knew him best. He will be known as that Hunger Games victor who died during the rebellion. What a sad story.

He supposes it's better than being known as the murderer of fourteen year old Primrose Everdeen, the Mockingjay's little sister. The latest to join the ranks, alongside Waliyha Malik, of little girls he had unwittingly allowed to die. That is a completely different type of story.

 

* * *

 

“You killed a group of District 13 doctors. You murdered a fourteen year old girl.” President Coin's voice is cold as she appraises him with sharp eyes.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up. He doesn't understand. Minutes after they had landed he and Harry had been restrained and separated. An undetermined amount of time had passed since then, and he has yet to wrap his mind around the sequence of events. Niall gone. Liam dying. Zayn hurt. Harry taken.

“I don't understand,” he tries, his voice embarrassingly weak and tearful. “Is it over? Did we win?”

“Yes,” she responds simply. He feels his shoulders drop. They won. His battle might not be over yet, but he can already feel all the fight leaving his body.

“The last bomb you dropped killed Primrose Everdeen.”

He closes his eyes and rocks back on his chair. His brain feels fuzzy. He thinks he might be sick. Louis wonders if the breakfast he ate that morning had something bad in it.

“You gave us the bomb coordinates,” he manages, although he's unsure now, muddled by the chain of events. “The bombs were dropped at the coordinates given to us by your district.”

“No,” she tells him firmly. “You were angry about Finnick's death. You went rogue and did not listen when District 13 begged you to stop.”

“No,” Louis tries to say. His head is fuzzy. Maybe she's right. Did he go rogue? “I didn't know the coordinates to Snow's mansion. I barely even know how to fly. I was just listening to instructions. I had my headset on.”

Coin sighs, long and drawn out, and Louis cringes. “Play it,” she calls out to someone Louis cannot see. Immediately, the room begins to vibrate with the sounds of his own angry voice.

“Let me fucking kill them! What are we doing waiting around, blowing up pods with cars? Let me kill all of them!”

Louis stared blankly at the wall. He can still feel Coin's eyes fixed on him. “That wasn’t…” he finally gets out. “I was upset about Finnick.”

“Yes you were,” she says, her voice deadly quiet and threatening. “You were upset about Finnick and you wanted to do something. You wanted to kill all the people who had hurt him. So you ignored District 13’s orders to continue with the car bombing, and you went and dropped a bomb at the gates of Snow's mansion.”

“No!” He knows he must look like a lunatic, hands covering his ears and knees pressed to his chest as he rocks precariously about on his seat. His blood feels sluggish in his veins, and he knows for certain now that he's been drugged. “That's not how it happened. We did keep on with the car bombing. That's how Liam got hurt.”

“Lies!” Coin shrieks, and the high-pitched sound makes Louis' muddled brain explode with pain. “No one will ever believe you, Louis Tomlinson. Not when we have that recording of your voice to back us up.”

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks. It seems strange, but not entirely unbelievable, that after surviving the rebellion, he will die at the hands of his own side. There was never really a right or wrong side amongst the privileged politicians. Just two equally intelligent and manipulative sets of people struggling for ultimate power.

“Of course not,” she tutted at him like he was being absurd. “We are not the Capitol. I have everything arranged. Once things calm down slightly, you will be given a new identity and brought back to District 13 where I will personally grant you one of our menial labour jobs. You will never be able to leave our District or see your family and friends again, but that is to be expected. After all, you cannot expect there to be no punishment for killing the Mockingjay's little sister.”

“I didn't,” he whispers, but even he realizes his words carry no weight. Because he did. No matter whose orders it was on, he believes Coin when she says that he did kill Primrose Everdeen. And Coin would never allow one second of it to get traced back to her.

“You're smart,” Louis laughs, his voice bordering on hysteria. Tears are building up in the corners of his eyes, but they do not fall. He cannot stop laughing long enough for them to. “Too smart for me President Coin.”

She smiles.

 

* * *

 

Louis thinks weeks might pass. Maybe one, maybe several. It's hard to measure time when there is nothing to measure it against. Drugged meals do arrive fairly regularly, and he eats them even though they makes his eyes spin and his ears feel like they are full of cotton wool.

He's just eaten when he gets his first visitor that is not a homicidal president. Louis thinks he's seen a ghost when Liam wheels into his room. Liam's fate was something Louis had been determined not to contemplate. There had been so much blood. Blood pooling in cracks in the pavement, soaking the seat of the car, coating Louis' hands, running in rivulets over the smooth hovercraft floor. Liam died that day, and that is not a thought that Louis has any intention of confronting.

Except that, according to his generally functional eyes, Liam Payne is very much alive and seated in a wheelchair directly in front of him. Louis' brain is working in overdrive, but he finds his mouth is less willing to make sounds. He attributes that to the fact that he is still being heavily sedated. Long minutes pass where Liam's face moves hazily in front of his own, mouth opening and closing in the shape of words, eyes going sharp in frustration when Louis does not respond. It's not until Liam has left that Louis finally manages to spit out the words his brain had been screaming at him. “You're alive.”

The second time Liam comes Louis is ready and waiting. Days had passed, and Louis had felt his brain begin to slowly feel less and less like it was going to burst out of his skull. His words still feel a little out his control, his head a little foggy, but he thinks if Liam ever returns he will be able to speak.

“Liam Payne,” he says, before Liam has even had time to completely enter the room. “Fancy seeing you here, in my humble place of imprisonment.” 

Liam's eyes narrow momentarily. “I got them to lower the amount of drugs in your system.” Liam says slowly. “I'm working on getting you out of here.”

“Why bother?” Louis says shrilly, still feeling too far on the wrong side of insanity. “Haven't you heard? I'm a murderer! A crazy rogue killer!”

Liam seems to be carefully weighing his words at that, and Louis doesn't blame him. Liam had to know that Louis did not have the flying capabilities to find Snow's mansion without being given coordinates and directions. But countering Louis' statement would mean putting himself in direct opposition to his President. He seems to decide against commenting on it at all.

“Your leg,” Louis mumbles, moving in closer and pulling up the hem of Liam's pants. He stares blankly at the mechanical contraption. “My fault too,” he mumbles. “You lost it.”

“Lou-” Liam begins.

“I'm crazy aren't I?” Louis chokes into his hands. He thinks he might have started crying again. Or maybe he is laughing. “It's over and I'm crazy. Crazy crazy crazy.”

“You're still hopped up on drugs Lou,” Liam says firmly. “I'll get them to stop it. I promise.”

“Can't promise anything ever,” Louis mumbles, leaning back against Liam's legs and idly stroking the mechanical one until Liam once again wheels around and leaves.

The fog in his head clears up the next day, and Liam returns once more.

“I thought you could help me with my physical therapy,” he says, appraising Louis wearily.

Louis nods, head throbbing and throat sore. “Okay.”

They spend an hour in virtual science, Louis acting as Liam's support beam as they slowly walk across the room and back, giving Liam time to rest in his chair between each try. Louis has a thousand questions he wants to ask, but finds he is too afraid to voice even one of them.

“There was a vote,” Liam finally says, panting in his chair as he tries to catch his breath from the painful walk. “Living victors voted on whether they want there to be a Hunger Games with the Capitol children.”

“Living victors?” Louis asked quietly.

“Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Enoboria, Beetee, Haymitch and Annie,” Liam responds. “You and Harry are both assumed dead.”

Louis nods, but his throat is tight. Years of interacting with the victors. Years of horrible ceremonies and tears and terrible losses. Most of them had not been his friends, but they had been people he had known for a large portion of his life. And only seven of them had survived.

“Are you going to ask me what they voted for?” Liam asks.

“They voted to do it with the Capitol children,” Louis says. “Katniss, Johanna, Enoboria and Haymitch. They all voted for that. Four against three. I know how victors think.”

“And what would you have voted for?”

Louis makes eye contact with Liam for a long second. He thinks Liam looks afraid for his answer. “I think enough children have died,” Louis finally says.

Liam shakes his head. “You're a good person, you know that?”

Louis laughs wetly. “No, I'm really, really not. Now, can you just...I can't ask you, I just can't...so can you just tell me everything? Everything I should be asking?”

As little as his words make sense, Liam seems to understand immediately. “Zayn and Niall have gone back to District 6.” Liam tells him, and Louis is not sure he's ever felt such a profound sense of relief in his life. “Niall was taken prisoner and questioned by the Capitol for his knowledge on our attack sequences.” Liam gives a harsh little laugh. “That kid is too valuable for anyone to ever actually kill. They wanted to stay and find you, but there's such a large amount of refugees in the Capitol right now that anyone who has a home to go to is being asked to return to it.”

Louis nods. “That's good,” he says, and he means it. “I'm glad they're home. They deserve it.”

“Harry is being detained right now as well,” Liam says, causing Louis' heart to rapidly sink in his chest, immediately imagining the worst case scenario.

“He's fine,” Liam adds hastily as he seems to notice the expression on Louis' face. “Although I've not managed to see him. His sister and mother have shown up in the Capitol and created an absolutely massive fuss. They don't believe he's dead and are shouting conspiracy theories at anyone who will listen.” Liam laughs. “Everyone is treating them like they're insane, but of course, they are actually right.”

“My family?” Louis suddenly, to his own shock, manages to choke out. “My mom? My sisters?”

“I don't know,” Liam says honestly. “They could very well be alive. There are new people showing up here every day. Just popping up in hospitals and shelters. I'm looking.”

“Thank you,” Louis says helplessly. “Thank you so much.”

Liam's facial expression closes off. “Don't,” he says, his voice sounding odd. “Don't thank me.” He looks around the room desperately, as if there is so much more he wants to say, and then his shoulders slump instead, and he wheels out of the room yet again, leaving Louis feeling more bewildered and lost than ever.

 

* * *

 

Louis stops getting any visitors at all. No guards, no food, no nothing. It's as if he has been completely forgotten. He knows intuitively that something has happened.

Liam shows up, hobbling along with a cane this time, and bringing sandwiches and water in a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Thank goodness for you, Liam,” Louis mumbles while quickly shoveling food into his mouth. “What the hell happened to everyone?”

“President Coin is dead,” Liam says in a closed off tone, and Louis chokes on his sandwich, spending a long minute spluttering and coughing before he can finally answer Liam, eyes still watering.

“What?”

“Katniss Everdeen shot her during Snow's live execution.

Louis stares at Liam blankly. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No,” Liam says shortly.

“I-what-why?”

Liam hands are shaking. “Probably because Coin orchestrated Katniss's younger sister's death.”

“I killed her,” Louis' voice is shaky, but he finds he needs to get it out. Needs to release the horrible guilt that makes it impossible for him to sleep at night. “That was me.”

“It was Coin,” Liam says sharply. “She gave the orders to us because we were the most expendable. You and Harry were supposed to be dead already anyway. But if it hadn't been us than it would have been another bomb team.”

Louis stays silent, no idea how to even begin to respond.

“I know grief, you know,” Liam says suddenly, voice low and uncertain. “When I was a kid, District 13 had a smallpox epidemic. My sisters, my mom...they all died. Only me and my dad survived.”

“Liam-” Louis says in shock.

“And I swore,” Liam continues, brokenly. “I swore that I would avenge them. That I would be the best soldier and the best commander, and I would get back at the people who did this to us.” He halts for a moment, wiping messily at his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. “We were underground with no access to medicine or anything to save them and it was the Capitol's fault. And I know you think that District 13 are all monsters as well, that I'm the horrible person that was going to let Niall die because of some stupid order-” His voice cracks.

“No, Liam,” Louis tries again.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Liam is full on sobbing now. “I thought I was on the right side, the good side. I believed in us. But I think I was wrong. Because the right side doesn't kill little girls or lock up and drug innocent people. I think I was wrong Louis. And I'm so sorry.”

“There's not always a right or wrong,” Louis says quietly, reaching forward to tentatively rest his hand against Liam's quivering arm. “There's just people who all have a thousand different reasons for doing the things they do. Nothing that happened was your fault. Some of it was my fault, Liam. I mean your leg, that's on me. I'm so sorry-”

“My leg?” Liam actually laughs, slightly hysterical. “You saved my life, Lou. I'm going to owe you forever. You dragged me out of there and drove me back to camp and carried me through a massive shooting attack. I will never be able to stop thanking you for that.”

“I didn't,” Louis says uncertainly. “I mean...”

“Thank you, Louis,” Liam says slowly and with force. “And I'm getting you out of here.”

Louis' eyes widen. “You're letting me out?”

“The Capitol is in complete chaos. When the rebels finally realize you've been locked up I doubt they'll have a clue what to do with you. I'll just save them from that choice. I'll be back in District 13 before anyone knows what I've done anyway.”

“You're going back?” Louis asks.

Liam nods. “There're things I want to do there. And I have a job.”

“Right,” Louis smiles weakly. “Commander Liam Payne.”

“I'll see you again some day,” Liam says. “I'm sure of it.”

“I hope so,” Louis answers, and he smiles before reaching over to pull a startled Liam into a long hug. “I'm proud to have worked with you, Liam. And I'm proud to call you my friend.”

He thinks he can feel Liam's tears begin to wet the shoulder of his shirt, but neither of them say a word.

 

* * *

 

He heads to the hospital, primarily because he's not sure where else to go. The hospital seems like a good enough place for lost people to surface though, and he has a lot of people he would like to find.

It's overcrowded and hot, smelling a little like decaying flesh and lot like blood, the sounds of screaming children fill the air. He wanders through the dirty, cluttered halls, not entirely sure who he's looking for until he catches sight of her.

She is pale, heavily pregnant, and hooked up to a machine. “Annie,” he breathes, a myriad of indescribable emotions overwhelming him.

She peaks one eye open slightly, before reaching over to clutch one of his cold hands tightly in her own. “Hi, Lou.”

He crawls into bed with her and rests his hand lightly on her belly. “How are you feeling, darling?”

“It's chilly outside,” she tells him serenely. “I need to find warm baby clothes before he comes.”

“I'll get you some,” Louis says, resting his chin on her head. “We'll get him a nice little outfit.”

“And blankets?” She asks him hopefully.

“Lots and lots of blankets,” he promises. “We'll spoil him with blankets.”

Annie snuggles further into his side, and he can feel her breathing become less regular and more laboured, as if she's trying not to cry. “I'm trying to be okay, Lou,” she tells him quietly. “I want to be okay. For Finnick. And for my baby.”

“I know,” Louis kisses the top of her head, hoping she can't feel him shaking. “You'll be okay, Annie. I know you will be. And you're going to have one beautiful baby.”

“I want to be a good mother,” she whispers. “I always wanted to be a good one, but before I thought that, at least if I wasn't great, my baby would have a good father. Now I have to be enough. I have to be enough for the baby by myself.”

“You're the best, Annie,” he says firmly. It feels surprisingly easy to not cry, to not grieve for Finnick. He can be strong for her. “The very best. That is going to be the happiest, luckiest baby in the whole world because they get to have you.”

They lie quietly for a long time. “I'm strong,” Annie finally says. “Maybe no one believes that, with the way I am...but I will be strong.”

“I believe you,” he says, and he really does. He doesn't believe in a lot of good things, but he does believe in Annie Cresta. He believes that she will brave, and strong, and wise, and everything she needs to be for her child.

He's not even surprised when, after several hours, he looks up to be met with a pair of bright green eyes staring directly at him. “You found me,” he mumbles sleepily.

The corners of Harry's mouth pull up into a tiny smile. “This seemed like a good place to find people.”

* * *

 

They are booted out the next morning, when a doctor finds the two of them still curled up with Annie in her bed. She shoos them out while grumbling about how things are already overcrowded as it is, and they don't need more space taken up by people who aren't even sick.

Louis hastily pecks a confused Annie on the cheek and promises to visit again soon before he and Harry scamper out of the building under the disgruntled doctor's watchful eye.

It's cold and bright outside, and he and Harry both squint at each other in the early morning light before simultaneously deciding the take a seat on a bench. The bench is mostly destroyed, the entire right side collapsed, forcing Louis and Harry to huddle up close on the left side.

Harry looks very young in that moment, as he looks up at Louis, his cheeks rosy and nose running, face still bearing crease marks from their pillowcase. Louis brings their foreheads together, just barely touching, and they lean in to each other.

“Would you like to meet my family?” Harry asks quietly.

“Very much,” Louis responds.

Harry's family is lovely, which is not surprising. Harry's mother hugs him and pets his hair and Louis misses his own mother so much it hurts. Gemma smirks at him knowingly and mutters something Louis doesn't quite catch but that makes Harry fix her with a long, thoroughly put out pout.

“This feels strange,” he tells Harry as soon as they're alone. “This is your life away from the Games. It's strange to see it.”

“Good strange?” Harry asks, sounding nervous but hopeful.

Louis doesn't even have to think about it. “A very good strange.”

 

* * *

 

Every morning he and Harry eat breakfast and then go to check the lists. There are two lists. The first one is the list of everyone who has confirmed themselves to be alive, every person who has survived and is reaching out for other survivors. That's the list Louis frantically searches through each morning in hopes of spotting a Tomlinson. The second list is the list of the confirmed dead. That's the list his and Harry's names are on. That's the list Harry looks at every morning, so that he can be the one to tell Louis if his family is dead.

That day is the same as every other. Louis and Harry each eat a muffin and carry thermoses of coffee to the main building where the lists can be found. Crying people are meandering around as usual. You never know if they are crying because of happiness or because of news of horrifying loss, so Louis makes a point to never make eye contact with any of them.

Their names are neatly typed out that morning, one after another. Johanna Tomlinson, Charlotte Tomlinson, Felicite Tomlinson, Phoebe Tomlinson, Daisy Tomlinson. They are on Louis' list. No one makes eye contact with him as he cries overwhelmingly happy tears.

 

* * *

 

Reuniting with his family, who had all seen his name on the list of the confirmed dead, is not something Louis could ever even begin to describe. He feels like his heart is going to burst right out of his chest when he enters the communal refugee room that his family had been set up in. Fizzy is the first one to see him, staring at him as if she's afraid to even say anything, in case she might be hallucinating. “Louis?” she finally whispers, limbs locked in place, eyes darting around, begging for confirmation from her family that they are also seeing what she is seeing.

Daisy and Phoebe both turn around at the mention of his name, and they hold nothing back in their reactions. In a split second they are both running forward and leaping into his arms. They are heavier than they were the last time he had seen them, so much bigger and more grown up. Louis' eyes go blurry with tears, and he can barely see a thing, but he feels his mother sobbing into his hair, holding him to her like he can't possibly really be there.

He feels Fizzy clutch at his T-shirt, her fist clamped so tight he doesn't think she plans on ever letting go. And when he finally manages to see through the tears, he spots Lottie hunched over across the room, sobbing into her knees.

“Get over here, Lottie,” he manages to say. “Brother comes back from the dead and you don't even give him a hug?” Within moments she is pulling herself to her feet and crowding in at his side as well, face slotted in against his neck.

With his four sisters and mother alive and at his side, Louis thinks he might be a term he's never associated with himself before.

He's _lucky._

 

* * *

 

The relocation movement catches Louis off guard, despite the seemingly obvious inevitability of it. The Capitol cannot support such a large refugee population, the people need to be relocated back to the districts. There is no requirement to return to your home district, although most people are. The important thing is that you choose a district, and sign up for a train time slot.

Louis doesn't know what to do, mostly because he can't imagine leaving Harry, but he also can't imagine not returning to District 6. After so long together, it's hard for Louis to remember that they came from different places. Their lives were always on different paths before the Hunger Games threw them together. The natural course of things would mean Harry going back to District 7 and Louis returning to District 6.

So Louis procrastinates. He doesn't talk to Harry about it, because it feels unreasonable to ask Harry to come home with him, but the thought of following Harry to District 7 is almost more terrifying.

The pressure for a decision is rapidly lifted off his shoulders when Lottie effectively diverts attention by dramatically announcing one day that she will not be returning to District 6. It's extremely upsetting to his family, but Louis simply finds it shocking. In all his hypotheticals about the future, the one constant was that his family would be in District 6.

His mother is too upset to even ask questions, instead clucking around and throwing guilt-laden statements at Lottie, who seems remarkably calm about the entire thing.

It's several hours before he manages to corner Lottie, fixing her with his best disapproving stare as he imitates his mother's voice. “And what exactly do you think you're doing, young lady?”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Lou.”

“No, seriously,” he says, dropping the facade. “Where are you going?”

She hesitates, before apparently deeming him trustworthy. “District 2. I got a job offer. A really good one.”

He laughs, because of course she did. “Who even are you, Lottie Tomlinson?”

“The female Niall Horan,” she tells him, point blank. He makes a face at her. “I don't belong in District 6 anyway.” She admits. “I'm not sure I would even know how to be a normal person at this point.”

He nods, because it makes sense to him in a way. He's not sure how to be a normal person either. The difference between him and his sister is that he would very much like to try to be one.

“You're not going back to District 6 either, Lou,” Lottie tells him, amusement etched into the lines of her face. “You don't belong there either. You can't possibly have a lot of good memories of that place.”

“I-I don't know what I'm doing,” he admits.

She nods. “That's okay. Most of us don't.”

 

 

* * *

 

“What do you plan to do for the rest of your life, Harry Styles?” Louis asks jokingly as they lie on the cold damp grass outside the refugee centre, haphazardly tossing rocks at trees. Mostly, Louis just wants to figure out where Harry is planning on going after all this, so Louis can decide whether or not to follow him.

Harry does not take the bait. “Make amends,” he says calmly. “That's what I'm going to do.”

“Amends?” Louis swallows convulsively. “How?”

“Nothing enormous, I guess,” Harry says contemplatively. “I just want to be a good person and...make people's lives better I guess. Instead of worse.”

“You are a good person,” Louis argues grumpily, clumsily petting at Harry's messy hair.

“I haven't really acted like one, though,” Harry says slowly. “And it's easy to excuse myself and say that we were at war and I had no choice, but that's not really true is it? At some point you've got to take responsibility for your actions. War is not just a blanket excuse for every bad thing I've done. I'm not sorry for what I did to survive, but I do think I should acknowledge that they were bad things, and that I did have a choice. I always had a choice.”

Louis turns his head in the grass so he can get a better look at Harry. “I think I've made more bad choices than you, so at least there's that.”

“Have you, though?” Harry breathes deeply, and bites down on his lower lip. “Do you remember how my Games ended?”

“Snakes,” Louis answers hesitantly. “There were snakes, and then you...”

“Do you think I aimed?” Harry asks, and Louis understands in that instance how important this question is to Harry. “I was swinging around my axe at the snakes and then it hit the other boy and he died and do you think I aimed Louis?”

Louis doesn't answer. The truth is he's not sure.

“No one ever asked me if I aimed,” Harry continues, eyes dry as he stares up at the sky. “They assumed I didn't, that it was an accident. My family, my friends, my teachers...they assumed I was swinging at the snake and then I hit him instead.”

“It doesn't matter,” Louis says. “I don't care what you were thinking. Accident or on purpose.”

“It does, though,” Harry says desperately. “Because I've spent years thinking about it. Years replaying it in my head. I was swinging at the snakes, and I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him and I decided in that split second that I wanted to live. That I wanted to go home and see my family again. And I killed him. It was my choice.”

“They made you, Harry,” Louis says. “The Capitol. They made us kill each other, and then they made it so one person would live.”

“It didn't have to be me,” Harry says, his voice climbing. “It could have been someone else. I chose for it to be me, I decided my life was more valuable than his. It wasn't a choice I would ever have had to make if it wasn't for the Games, but it was still my choice. And that choice tells me that I have a lot of things to make amends for.”

Louis is not sure what to say. A large part of him wants to tell Harry to just put it all on the Capitol. It's easier to deal with if you have someone to blame besides yourself.

“Do you understand though, Lou?” Harry asks, turning into his side and staring nervously at his face. “Because I've been trying to side step that guilt every second since. And so far this is the only thing that's made it any better. I've spent so much time with this horrible feeling of hatred and guilt and fear. And the only thing that's made it any better is saying that it was my choice, because if it was my choice than I can make amends for it. If it wasn't my choice, then I lose all that control.”

“Facing it head on,” Louis muses. “Interesting concept. Sounds like something a healthy, well-adjusted person might do. Naturally, I think it's utterly absurd.”

They giggle into each other’s shoulders, tension dissipating.

“We both made a lot of bad choices,” Louis tests out. “Sometimes we had to, usually to save ourselves. But that doesn't change the fact that we hurt people. And today, we have the chance to make better choices. So we're going to make amends.”

“Make amends,” Harry echoes quietly. It feels good. It feels like a promise.

 

* * *

 

“I want to go home Louis,” Annie cries softly into her pillow. “I want to have my baby at home.”

“We can't let her go home without someone we know is going to look after her,” The doctor shakes her head at him. “We've got to keep the safety of her and her child in mind. We don't know that she's mentally or emotionally stable enough to be trusted on her own.”

Louis strokes a hand through Annie's hair, and he thinks he knows what he's going to do.

 

* * *

 

When the phone lines come back up Louis spends the entire day pacing and staring distrustfully at the phone on the wall of his family's communal refugee room. Lottie too seems on edge, reaching for the phone ever few seconds only to back away suspiciously as soon as she gets too close.

“I've got to make a call,” Louis finally announces. “You all need to leave.”

His mother and little sisters shoot him vaguely annoyed stares, but Lottie is out in a flash, no doubt horrified at the thought of overhearing any sort of emotional conversation.

It takes him a long time to actually track down Zayn's newly assigned number, and as soon as he gets it and the phone actually starts ringing, Louis is overcome by a wave of regret and nausea. He has to physically force himself to not hang up the phone.

“Hello,” Zayn answers. He sounds tired.

“Hey mate,” Louis says weakly. “It's Louis.”

Zayn swears loudly. “Lou? Is that really you?”

“Obviously,” Louis says obnoxiously. It's a clear defence mechanism, and he's sure Zayn knows that. “Who else calls you? Are you cheating on me, Malik?”

“Shut up, Louis,” Zayn says, and Louis thinks he might already be crying.

“Can I...can I just sort of...tell you something? Because Harry's being this therapeutic little ass lately, all thoughtful and contemplative. You'd probably understand it perfectly...and it's made me sort of realize something-”

“Just tell me, Louis,” Zayn says, and Louis thinks he might be rolling his eyes.

“Your sister dying wasn't my fault,” he says, and there's no turning back now, despite the fact that there's only silence on the other side of the phone. “A lot of things have been my fault, Zee. I've done horrible things. But I tried to save her. I loved her like a little sister and I did absolutely everything I could to save her. Everything I knew how to do. So I-I don't think she was my fault. And I think I'm going to forgive myself for that one.”

There is no response on the other line. “Zee?” Louis says shakily. “Are you still there?”

Then, against all odds, Louis hears a tiny, miniscule, “I know.”

“What?” he asks tearfully.

“I know,” Zayn repeats louder. “I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could. And thank you for trying to save her. Thank you for putting her life above yours. I never should have asked that of you, but thank you. I love you, Lou.”

His family finds him several hours later, still clutching the phone to his ear, and crying into the headset. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“I've come to say goodbye,” Johanna announces loudly, which is funny because as far as Louis knows they had not actually said hello yet. He tells her as much.

“I've not seen you since I left District 13. I didn't even realize you were in the Capitol. How is this goodbye?”

She shrugs. “I didn't want to see you before now. Felt weird to see you without being able to see Finnick as well.”

Louis nods, throat constricting. He understands that all too well. It already feels strange to him, to be having a conversation with Johanna that he won't be able to complain to Finnick about later.

“But I'm going back to District 7 tomorrow, so I figure I should probably see you before I leave.”

Louis snorts. “I can really feel the love, thanks.”

“Where are you off to then, Tomlinson? Are you planning on dragging poor Harold back to District 6 with you?”

“I don't think so,” he admits.

Johanna raises an eyebrow. “You better not be planning on ditching him. You know he would follow you to your district.”

“No,” Louis says in exasperation. “Not no to the Harry part. I meant...I don't think I'll be going back to District 6.”

Johanna pauses. “Annie?” She says in resignation.

“I think so,” Louis nods.

“You're more stable than I expected,” Johanna says. “I've heard bits of what's been going on and I thought you would be...”

“Tormented, grief-ridden, catatonic?” Louis suggests.

She laughs slightly. “Kind of, I guess?”

“I want to be better,” he says slowly. “Better for my family, and for Harry, and for Annie. I got a second chance; I got to live when a lot of people died. So I should make use of that. Being crazy at this point just seems like a bit of a waste.”

Johanna shakes her head. “I never saw this coming.”

He grins. “Oh don't worry, I'm still tormented and grief-ridden. I'm just working much harder to hide it.”

“That's more like the Louis Tomlinson I know.” She chuckles.

Johanna is clearly ready to leave, already fidgeting. Louis puts a hand on her arm to hold her back for one more second. “Hey, you're my friend, you know that right? You've been my friend for a long time, with or without Finnick. So if you ever get tired of District 7 and need a change of scenery...you know where to find me okay?”

She glares at him. “Don't get sappy with me, Tomlinson. It's gross.”

Louis grins to himself as she walks away.

 

 

* * *

 

Louis spends his last night curled up in bed with Harry. They've managed to get a room alone, what with so many of the original refugees having returned home.

It's different than all the other times they had shared a bed alone. Back then they had been pushing, always pushing, for more. Pushing to be better, to be healthier, to get their hands on each other and erase all the pain and unpleasant memories. It had never worked, only ever made things worse.

That night is different. They spend the entire time just kissing, never pushing for anything more. They kiss until their mouths are sore and swollen and they can barely keep their eyes open. Harry's face is completely open, and he looks so achingly happy that it hurts Louis to look at him.

He can't seem to keep his hands off Louis, stroking down his sides and petting at his hair and kissing lines over his cheeks. It's everything Louis never thought he could have, and he wants it to last forever.

The night draws on, never-ending hours of kissing and hugging and holding hands. Louis musses up Harry's curls until they are a thoroughly knotted mess and Harry continues to kiss Louis' cheeks until his ears have gone red in sheepish delight. Louis says I love you as he tickles Harry's sides and Harry whispers it back as he pecks a brand new kiss onto the tip of Louis' nose.

Then they fall asleep, completely tangled up in one another, and only when Louis knows that Harry is right on the edge of sleep, does he finally whisper it into his curls. “I'm going to District 4 tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes up early to go fetch Annie. He determinedly does not look back at Harry's sleeping form. If Harry wants to come with him he can meet them at the train station. Louis had made the move. He had told Harry he was leaving.

He begins to regret that decision as soon as they reach the train station. He's got his own duffel bag as well as Annie's swung over his shoulder, and as he searches the crowd with baited breath he wishes he had woken Harry up. Or at least asked Harry what he planned to do last night.

As the departure time draws closer, Louis' heart rate continues to pick up. What if Harry doesn't come? He had been stupidly optimistic, choosing to believe Harry would follow him. And then he spots him.

Harry's hair is still fluffed up and knotted, like hadn't had time to shower yet. His nose is sunburnt and he stumbles over his own feet as he approaches them.

“You could have woken me up,” Harry complains. “And do you have any idea how hard it was to get a ticket on such short notice? You couldn't have told me we were leaving, oh, last week?”

Louis can only smile helplessly. The sun is hot, the wind is turning his hair into a complete mess, and everyone on the platform is screaming so much his head hurts. “I'm very happy to be alive with you, Harry Styles,” Louis blurts out.

Harry smiles as they heave their bags up into the train. It sounds like approximately a thousand babies are crying inside, and smells vaguely of piss. Harry laughs joyously as the three of them cram themselves into a seat that looks like it could at most fit two small children, and creaks loudly at being confronted with two grown men and a heavily pregnant woman.

“I'm very happy to be alive with you too, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

 

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO THE EPILOGUE IS STILL TO COME BUT BESIDES THAT I FINISHED HOLY SHIT I DIIIIID IIIIII GAAAH LET ME JUST GO SCREAM INTO MY PILLOW FOREVER.
> 
> If you want to comment and leave me a message telling me what you thought of THE LAST OFFICIAL CHAPTER than that would be really awesome :) (and I swear I will do a really heartfelt meaningful and moderately more legible end note at the end of the epilogue)
> 
> So here is the [ tumblr post ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/post/104641152351/who-painted-the-moon-black-by-throughthedark) for this story that I just made in a fit of excitement over being pretty much done and here's [ my tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) if you ever want to come chat and ALSO you should check out my [crazy amazing friend](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//) who totally dropped everything during awful exam stress week to edit this for me so SHE'S KIND OF THE GREATEST
> 
> THANKS FOR READING AND ONCE AGAIN HOLY SHIT IT'S BASICALLY DONE


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my advance apologies for how horribly long this is. This was my last chance to write EVERYTHING I COULD POSSIBLY THINK OF. You'll see very soon that I completely lost control of this. Buuut I hope you like it :) Here we go - last one.

**Lottie Tomlinson, District 2**

 

The games take away the first boy she ever loved. They grab her brother, steal him from her and smuggle him away in a huge train, and every year they return a smaller, lesser version of him to her. They return a boy who can't look her in the eye without flinching. A boy who screams in his sleep and stops talking to all his friends. And all her childish dreams for her future disappear, because for the first time, she understands hatred.

Lottie is thirteen years old the first year Louis goes back to the Capitol to be a mentor. She smashes the windows of every single Peacekeeper's house in the district that night and spray paints nasty words onto their front doors. Lottie hides in her room for days afterwards, completely terrified and one hundred percent sure that she is going to be publicly executed for her crimes. When days turn into weeks, she realizes in astonishment that nothing has happened. She responds to this realization by setting dozens of rats loose in the Head Peacekeeper's office.

She is setting fire to the mayor's wife's garden when Niall finds her. Seventeen years old and with a purpose, he is everything she isn't. “Oy!” he yells. “Don't do that. I steal my veggies from there!”

Lottie glares at him, and momentarily considers burning only the flowers.“I know you,” Niall suddenly exclaims. “You're the kid who's been breaking all the Peacekeeper's shit.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she says stiffly.

He appraises her silently for a moment. “You want to spend your time setting plants on fire, or do you want to be a part of something real kid?”

Lottie snorts. “Nothing real wants help from an angry kid.”

Niall smirks at her. “In contrast my dear, I would say almost every rebellious movement in history was built on the backs of angry kids.”

“What would I be doing?” she asks suspiciously.

He shrugs casually. “I have a few ideas.”

By the end of the week, Lottie is all sweet smiles and pretty dresses, getting chummy with the mayor's daughter and seamlessly changing all the mayor's supply orders as soon she has access to his home. It is almost too easy, getting Niall the supplies he needs for a massive bomb.

 

* * *

 

She is fourteen when she meets Richard. He likes to set fire to the Peacekeeper's things too, and she immediately both likes and dislikes him passionately. He talks to her like she is stupid and treats her in the same way that her mother had always taught her was unacceptable. She is irrationally intrigued.

Lottie begins hooking up with him in secret; she doesn't think anyone in her life would understand. It is ill thought out and she suspects generally bad for her mental health, but something about the way he hates the Capitol with everything inside of him draws her to him. She can't stay away.

“That boy is bad news,” Niall tells her when he figures it out. She has always considered herself to be an excellent liar, but it doesn't take Niall long to realize they are up to something. “You should stay away from him. He's too old for you anyway.”

“He's the same age as you,” Lottie points out.

Niall frowns. “Last I checked we're not sleeping together, though.”

She brushes him off. Niall just doesn't understand.

 

* * *

 

When she is fifteen, Richard becomes District 6's male tribute. It feels personal this time. She cries for two days, because it has to be her fault. First her brother, and now her boyfriend. That cannot be pure chance. She must have done this to them.

Richard kills the female tribute from their district that year. Lottie spends the entire evening vomiting after she sees it, and then doesn't eat for a week. She tries to talk to Louis on the phone about it afterwards, tries to ask him how this could have happened in the most casual way possible. It doesn't work. From then on, she never speaks about Richard again, and instead adds him to the slowly growing list of things she has to keep secret.

 

* * *

When she is sixteen, she blows up the Justice Building, killing hundreds upon hundreds of Peacekeepers. She knows, that day, that her brother will never look at her the same way again. She can live with that. She finds that there are a lot of things she can live with.

 

* * *

 

She loses her best friend that same year. Her brother physically restrains her, and she is forced to watch as Niall is taken from her.

For a little while, everything feels hopeless. How can she possibly go on without Niall? Then she remembers, of course, that she is Lottie-fucking-Tomlinson. If Niall can build a bomb, so can she. She is not a little girl anymore. Sweet smiles and pretty dresses can no longer be her weapon.

She has enough anger in her to fuel an army. Her brother is taken from her on a train, the same train that takes him every year. That year, however, she blows up the train tracks behind him. She blows up the train tracks and swears that she will do whatever it takes to make sure the Capitol never takes another child from them again.

 

 

* * *

 

She is eighteen when the war ends. Most of the world would never know what she had spent that last year doing. They would never find out where she went or what she did after she hid her family away. Lottie thinks that's for the best.

 

* * *

 

Her entire family goes back to District 6. It's where her mother marries Dan and has an adorable new set of twins. It's where Fizzy finishes her schooling and meets the love of her life and starts a family.

Marriage and children, that was always her sister's future. It has not been Lottie's for a long time.

She accepts a prolific job in District 2 as a military coordinator and never so much as considers returning to District 6. There are too many horrific memories. She does visit Louis and Harry sometimes, and when she feels particularly homesick for her mother and sisters, she flies them out to see her. Wealth and power do have their advantages in that sense.

Fizzy's eyes always widen in utter awe as she observes Lottie's life during her visits. She exclaims about the size of Lottie's loft, and the softness of her sheets and how incredible it is that grown men skirt around her in fear. Lottie knows her sister though, and she knows that deep down Fizzy truly does not understand how Lottie could possibly want this for herself. Can't understand how when all the glitz and glamour fades away Lottie can possibly want to be alone and far away from home, with no husband or children to keep her company. Fizzy treats her visits like a trip to the zoo. It's fun to take pictures and admire the scenery, but you wouldn't move in there.

Lottie doesn't mind. She loves her flat and her sheets, and she especially loves the power. After spending so much of her life angry and powerless, she doesn't think she can ever let go of the feeling of control.

 

* * *

 

She is twenty-two when Niall moves to District 2. Lottie comes home from work one day, and there he is, sitting on her front steps, a coffee in each hand. She has spoken to him a grand total of one time since she was sixteen. Soon after the war had ended, he had called her from District 6. There had been too much pain then, mental wounds on both sides that were still healing. The conversation was stilted and awkward, and Lottie had made no attempt to contact him in the four years since.

“Wow, you've grown up,” is the first thing he says to her.

Lottie laughs. “I was sixteen the last time you saw me. I should hope so.”

She unlocks her door and gestures for him to enter in front of her all while willing her hands to stop shaking. Niall has an uncanny way of making her feel like the angry thirteen year old who used to smash windows and set gardens on fire.

She doesn't ask him why he left District 6 that night. Nor does she ask him in the weeks to come. She suspects living there, with his brother dead and gone, eventually just became too difficult.

District 2 is where the permanently damaged and yet still unrelentingly angry always run to. It's the only place she has been able to turn her burning hatred into something productive and not so awful. In the years to come, as Niall accepts a position in special weaponry, she thinks it helps him too.

 

* * *

 

She is twenty-six when Niall asks her out for the first time.

Lottie looks at him like he is crazy and automatically says no. They date around and sleep with other people and remain best friends. That's their relationship. It's one of the best things she has going in her life. Why would he want to mess that up?

He rolls his eyes at her when she gets worked up about it and starts yelling at him. “Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm not forcing you to.”

“Good,” she frowns. “Because what we already have is good. I like what we already have.”

Niall shrugs. If he's very upset, he hides it well. Life continues. She watches him go on to date a sweet nurse from the hospital. They stay together for two years. All anyone talks about is how adorable Niall and Barbara are together.

Lottie starts a casual relationship with District 2's democratic council representative. She likes him because he's rude and good in bed and she remains completely emotionally unattached to him. He is nothing to her and she is nothing to him. It's the perfect relationship.

 

* * *

 

Lottie is twenty-nine when she realizes she might be a little bit in love with Niall.

She shows up at his house uninvited one night, because her impulse control has always been slightly lacking.

He opens the door, tired and bleary eyed, and she remembers seeing him for the first time, sixteen years ago. “I only burnt the flowers,” she blurts out.

Niall crinkles his brow in confusion. “What?”

“The first time I met you,” she continues heedlessly. “I was going to burn the whole garden. But you said you ate the veggies. So after you left I burned all the flowers instead.”

He laughs. It's that big, huge Niall laugh that he had always kept with him, even in the worst of circumstances. “You were such a little brat back then. Still are actually.”

“I think we should be together,” she says, because she might as well just go all in now. “You're like my favourite person in the world...and I think we should just...be together.”

Niall grins at her, drawing her into his arms without hesitation. “I knew you would eventually fall victim to the Nialler charm. And it only took me sixteen years.”

Lottie smiles and ducks her head. “Could have been worse.”

He kisses her on his doorstep that night, and Lottie decides right then and there that she will never let him slip through her fingers again.

 

* * *

 

Lottie Tomlinson never gets married or has children. She never returns to District 6 either. But she does eventually become elected as democratic representative of District 2, forges a high profile political career, uses her position to promote a higher level of scientific and military education for young girls, puts a vast amount of her fortunes into money for post-war trauma counseling, and spends the rest of her life with her best friend.

She is happy.

 

**Zayn Malik, District 6**

 

There was never a question as to where Zayn would go when the war ended. He returns to District 6 without a second thought. It is, and always will be, his home.

He hides away a bit, during those first few years. Retreats into his room where he spends his time reading, painting, and dodging calls from his ever persistent therapist. In the evenings, Niall will come over with Theo and they play games with him and read him stories.

Niall is heavily involved in the reconstruction and post-war renovation of District 6. Zayn suspects it's how he distracts himself from the incredible unhappiness he feels almost every day. Whereas Zayn recovers by retreating into solitude, Niall attempts to recover by burying himself in work and projects.

They manage to trick themselves, during those initial years. Manage to pretend that the horrible numbness they feel is part of their healing. Sometimes he gets these glimpses of it though. When he sees Fizzy Tomlinson waddle around, heavily pregnant and absolutely glowing. Or when he sees a group of school children shrieking with glee as they chase a ball around the courtyard. He'll see those glimpses of true happiness and he realizes his is but a poor imitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Niall one night. “You hate this district.”

Niall stares off into the distance, twisting his hands around in his lap. “What do you mean? It's my home. You're here. Theo's here.”

“You hate it,” Zayn repeats. “Your life is just standing still here. And you're miserable. Why did you never take that job offer in District 2?”

Niall snorts. “I have nothing in District 2. The only person I even know there is Lottie Tomlinson, and I suspect she's too busy for me now.”

“Niall...” Zayn shakes his head. “I just want you to be...happy...I guess. Or at least not unhappy.”

“Like you would even survive without me,” Niall says gruffly. “I'm your only social interaction.”

Zayn takes a moment to think about his response, because he's not entirely sure he can survive without Niall, come to think of it. “I would miss you like crazy,” he finally admits. “But it would worth it, if you could have a shot at happiness. So go on. Show up at Lottie Tomlinson's doorstep. Didn't you used to have a thing for her?”

Niall mock glares at him. “Shut up. She was way too young for me anyway.”

Zayn smiles at him, at his best friend. “I love you so much, mate. You have no idea.”

Niall blinks rapidly, eyes suspiciously glassy. “Love you too, mate.”

“So come back and visit,” Zayn says shakily. “And call me all the time.”

“Course I will,” Niall mumbles. “Can't have you cutting off all human contact.”

Zayn pulls him into a hug, and wishes he didn't have to let go. He wonders when his life became defined by all the people he watched walk away.

 

* * *

 

His life feels empty after Niall leaves. Zayn hadn't quite realized quite how much Niall's incessant chatter and regular visits helped lift his mood until he can no longer rely on them. He finds himself actually seeking out conversation and companionship, simply out of loneliness. He calls and invites Louis to come visit, and he starts volunteering at his cousin's school. It's a bit ridiculous, but it is at least one small escape from his own head.

The arrival of Liam Payne in District 6, exactly five years after the end of the war, is what really shakes Zayn out of the daze he's been living in. It's strange, seeing Liam. Liam's is a face he only associates with war, as he knew him neither before the rebellion nor after.

“Zayn Malik,” Liam exclaims weakly as Zayn jolts to a halt when he spots him on the street for the first time. “What are the chances that I would run into you here.”

Zayn stares at Liam in confusion. “This is my home district,” he says slowly, because he's fairly certain that it's stranger for him to run into Liam here than for Liam to run into him. “What are _you_ doing here? Last I heard you were part of District 13's security council.”

“They're forcing me to take a sabbatical in another district,” Liam says. “Say I'm too anxious. Which is completely ridiculous of course. But still, I suppose a paid vacation can't hurt. And I knew that you and Niall and Louis are all from here, so I thought this would be the best district to choose.”

Zayn shakes his head uncertainly. “Well Lou lives in District 4 now, and Niall's been in District 2 for the last year, he got a really sweet job. But I suppose I'm here.”

“That sounds perfect!” Liam exclaims with a little too much cheer. “We absolutely have to catch up. How long has it been now? Four years?”

“Five,” Zayn provides.

“Too long!” Liam all but shouts. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Zayn is slightly intimidated by all the exclamations, but he supposes going for a drink with an old friend would abide by the instructions Niall had delivered via phone yesterday to “get your butt outside and talk to people.”

He lets Liam buy him a drink.

 

* * *

 

Strangely, his life gets better from there.

Liam gives him a sense of purpose. Here is a man who is clearly far more screwed up than him. Liam can apparently only function on a tight, District 13, military schedule. Unfortunately, even District 13 does not operate in the same fashion as they did during Liam's strict upbringing, and it's sending him off the rails. The forced sabbatical suddenly makes perfect sense to Zayn.

So he makes Liam talk with his therapist, takes him with him when he goes to volunteer at his cousin's school, and begins to actual check in on all the district projects that Niall had been begging him to update him on for months.

As Zayn slowly but surely becomes a better version of himself, he watches Liam become more and more unmanageable. He's drunk almost every night, and Zayn finds himself out at one in the morning trying to track down Liam's stumbling form quite frequently. It's exhausting, but Zayn has decided that Liam is now his friend. And Zayn takes care of his friends.

 

* * *

“You must really hate me.”

Liam is crying and Zayn's head hurts and he wonders why they aren't better yet. Surely by now they are supposed to be doing better.

“I don't hate you,” Zayn responds, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He's tired and his living room smells like whiskey and vomit and he's not sure who he was kidding when he decided _he_ was the right person to help Liam. He can barely even help himself.

“This is the last time,” Liam swears. “I'll quit drinking. You won't have to worry about me anymore.”

Zayn manages a weak nod. He's already heard that one a thousand times from Liam. He wishes he could hate Liam for never following through, but he understands. When everything hurts how do you stop the only thing that makes it go away? Even if the relief is only brief and the aftermath is even more painful.

“Just stay here,” Zayn finally says, rubbing at his eyes. “Not just tonight, for a while. You can have the spare room until you get better.”

Liam shakes his head. “You shouldn't have to deal with me. You're doing so well.”

Zayn chooses to not bring up how he had cried for an hour the day before when he realized he was out of cereal. “I don't mind. And I could kind of use the company to be honest.”

“Thank you,” Liam visibly sinks further into Zayn's couch. “You can kick me out whenever. Like if you meet some girl and want to do the whole marriage and babies thing-”

“As if,” Zayn snorts. He's been negative about love and marriage his entire life. From what he's seen it only brings pain. He wonders if it could fix him now. If he could just meet a girl and live happily ever after.

He wants that quick progress. It's unfair that every period of time when he thinks he's doing better is immediately followed by a period of time when he feels like nothing could get any worse.

“I thought I was getting better,” Liam mumbles sleepily as he buries his head further into the couch cushions. Zayn pulls a blanket around his own shoulders and curls up at the foot of the sofa.

“Me too,” he sighs.

 

* * *

 

Zayn almost bursts into tears when they offer him the job.

They want him to officially teach English at his cousin's school. He knows that in the grand scheme of things, it's nothing. When you compare his job to Niall or Lottie's or even Harry's, it's absolutely nothing. It's still one of the proudest moments of Zayn's life.

When he gets home he really does burst into tears. Liam, pale and wan and no doubt still hungover from last night, has filled his room with balloons and made him a slightly slanted cake that says “Congrats Zayn” in purple icing. For the first time in Zayn's entire life he feels like a success.

 

* * *

 

He thinks she'll be good for him.

Zayn wishes he had more romantic motivations the first time he asked Julie out. She is the history teacher at the school he works at, and they sometimes eat lunch together. She is pretty and smart and nice, but none of those things were what pushes him to make a move. What really captures his attention was her smile. She seems like a genuinely happy person, and he needs more genuinely happy people in his life. He thinks that she can maybe fix him a little bit.

She is good for him. Zayn feels like a bit of a shmuck, finding a perfectly healthy person and dragging her down into his world, so he makes sure she sees as little of his world as possible. He hides Liam's drunken antics and tearful breakdowns from her, just as he hides everything unpleasant in his life. Instead they go on theatre dates, and she cooks him dinner at her place, and they take peaceful walks through town.

_She makes him better. She is good for him._

He thinks if he just repeats it enough times it will have to become true.

“I'm going to marry her,” he tells Liam one day. “I'm going to be happy.”

Liam goes out that night and gets blindingly drunk before spending the early hours of the morning throwing up and sobbing into the toilet seat. Zayn can't shake the feeling that this is somehow his fault.

 

* * *

 

“You've lost your mind,” Niall tells him with entirely too much honesty. “I never should have left you here alone.”

Zayn stares at Niall blankly. Niall. Who is in District 6. Sitting on his steps. “What?”

“I know the invite said next week,” Niall barges past Zayn and into the house. “But I had to come back early so I can figure out what the hell you're on and how I can wean you off it.”

“I'm not on anything,” Zayn says indignantly.

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Zayn, I received an invitation from you yesterday. An invitation for your _wedding._ ”

“Yes,” Zayn says patiently. “That's what people tend to send out when they are getting married. A wedding invitation.”

“To the girl you've been dating for five months?” Niall asks. “Nope. Not cool. Not cool at all.”

“Aren't you supposed to be happy for me?” Zayn asks. “Louis called yesterday to congratulate me.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Lets be real, he called so that he could get dibs on best man.”

“I love her, Niall,” Zayn says, and it comes out more as a desperate excuse than he had intended. “She makes me happy.”

Niall sighs and plops himself on to one of Zayn's armchairs. “Did you know that statistically marriage and birth rates increased to an all time high immediately after the rebellion ended, and have been consistently and abnormally high in the years since?”

“So?” Zayn says, his heart sinking in his chest. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because when people go through traumatic and life changing experiences, they tend to want to cling on to the people they love. Get married, have children. Move on with their lives and prove that they can be okay.”

“And what's wrong with that?” Zayn asks quietly. “What's wrong with wanting to find a person you love and move on with your life?”

“It's not going to fix anything, Zayn,” Niall says with unbearable pity in his voice. “All the shitty things you feel and the nightmares and the panic attacks and the tears. They are all still going to be there after you get married. This isn't going to make it go away. You do realize that, right?”

Zayn stays quiet.

“And if you are really doing this because you love this girl, then I won't stop you. But I don't want you to make this massive decision in the hopes that it will just magically make everything in your life better.”

Zayn somehow manages to force out a laugh. “I forgot how dramatic you could get, Nialler. You always did worry about me too much.”

Niall frowns. “I don't think I'm-”

“I'm happy and I'm excited to get married to a girl I love. Don't stress yourself out.”

Niall lets out a long breath. “Okay, Zayn. You know I just want you to be happy.”

“I know,” Zayn says. He hopes Niall doesn't notice how he can't meet his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Some mornings he wakes up crying. He never really knows why. Most of the time he has only the vaguest recollection of a dream he may have been having. Sometimes he remembers nothing about his sleep at all. He will simply wake up with tears streaking down his cheeks and Julie looking at him with sadness etched into the lines of her face. That's the worst part. Sadness looks so wrong on her. She should be smiling.

He doesn't want to deal with her probing gaze or her sadness or all the ways she will try to make him feel better. Instead, he quickly pulls himself out of bed with a grunt and heads to the kitchen. Liam is already up making tea, surprisingly put together and alert looking.

“Morning,” Zayn mumbles.

Liam looks up quickly. “Morning. I made you guys tea.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says.

“I'm going house hunting today,” Liam suddenly blurts out. “Just so you know. You guys won't have to be putting up with me forever. I'm sorry I've been here for the entire first year of your marriage. I know it must have been tough for you as newlyweds.”

Zayn blinks rapidly. “You're leaving? You don't have to. We like- I like having you here.”

Liam shakes his head. “I think it's time for me to like, move on with my life.”

It's really unacceptable and one of the more embarrassing things that has ever happened to him, but Zayn feels tears start to burn in his eyes.

“Zayn?” Liam asks in alarm. “What's wrong?”

Zayn quickly wipes at his eyes. “Nothing,” he says. “I'm fine.”

“Zayn-”

“Don't you have to be at work?” Zayn interrupts. His heart is pounding and he feels sick to his stomach without even knowing why.

Liam hesitates. He's been helping out at the pub down the road for the last few months, and Zayn knows he despises being late. “Sophia will probably understand if I-”

“Just go,” Zayn says.

Liam looks slightly hurt but it works. He walks out the door without a second glance.

A week later he has his own place.

 

* * *

 

He is very drunk.

Alcohol was never really Zayn's thing. He couldn't really see the appeal. This was a notable exception.

“She's pregnant,” he slurs when Liam opens his front door. “Fucking pregnant.” He thinks he may have been repeatedly hitting his head against the door instead of knocking with his hand. His head now hurts.

“What? Julie's pregnant?”

It's somehow even more terrifying when Liam is saying it out loud. “I can't.” He feels like he can't breathe. “I can't. Oh God. I can't. Li-”

“It's okay,” Liam is already instinctively helping him inside with trembling but confident hands. “It's going to be okay.”

“It won't. I couldn't protect her, Li. She died and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't.” He's sobbing and his throat burns and everything is so horrible he can barely stand it.

He can barely see a thing through the haze of lights and tears, but he feels Liam setting him on the couch and pressing a glass of water into his hands. “Just take a few sips, Zayn.”

Zayn takes a few rattling breaths as he tries to tamper down his sobs long enough to take a gulp of water. Neither of them say a word as Zayn spends ten minutes focusing on breathing.

“It won't be the same,” Liam finally says. Zayn realizes he had understood more of his drunken ramblings than he thought. “It will absolutely not be the same as your sister. You will be an amazing father and your baby will be the luckiest kid in the world. That's not a reassurance, that's a promise. You're amazing, Zee.”

It's not so much his words as the earnestness in his voice as he says them that causes something to loosen up in Zayn's chest. He finds himself falling into Liam's side. In his drunken stupor, he lets himself revel in the safety of Liam's arms and burrow his nose into the crease of Liam's neck.

He doesn't think he ever wants to leave that position. Which is not a safe thought to have. He clears his throat and takes another sip of water. Liam is staring at him, posture tense. Zayn hesitantly brushes a hand over Liam's arm.

“No,” Liam says, quietly but firmly.

Zayn is not entirely sure what they are saying no to, but he retreats, head pounding and world still spinning. “No,” he echoes.

Liam straightens up. “Let me take you to bed,” he says tersely. “I'll crash on the couch.”

Zayn allows himself to be lead to Liam's room and tucked into bed like a small child. “Thank you,” he manages to mumble, as Liam turns off the lights.

There's a pause from where Liam is standing. “I just want you to be happy, Zayn,” he finally says.

Zayn swallows loudly. He wonders why the one thing everyone seems to want from him is the one thing he is persistently incapable of achieving. “I'll be okay.”

 

* * *

 

He is in absolute awe of his wife. He is not the only one with grief in his past. There's not a single person in any district that did not experience losses during the rebellion, Julie included. But she battles onward, and endures her pregnancy with a grace and strength that Zayn wishes he could emulate.

He cries when he holds his daughter in his arms for the first time, so small and perfect and innocent. They name her Waliyha, and Zayn hopes that somewhere, his little sister is looking down on him and smiling. He hopes he's made her proud. And he promises himself and her, on that brisk fall morning, that his baby girl will get to live out every second that was stolen from his sister.

 

* * *

 

“Bath time, girls!” Julie calls out, and there are shrieks to be heard as the girls both sprint off to hide.

“Don't worry, sweetie,” Zayn says solemnly as Julie smiles to herself fondly. “They won't be hard to find. We can just follow our noses.”

Muffled giggles come from behind the couch and Julie brandishes a bottle of soap like a weapon. Her hair is a frazzled mess and there's a stain across the front of her shirt. Zayn thinks she looks amazing. “You're right. Two smelly little girls should be easy to sniff out.”

Trisha, always the first to give up on any game, comes careening out of the corner with a battle cry and Zayn scoops her up with a successful shout.

“Excellent,” Julie extends her arm for a high five. “We can deal with this smelly little monster first.”

Happiness was never a sudden achievement for Zayn. But as he holds his youngest daughter in his arms and watches Julie leap over the couch to tickle-attack a squealing Waliyha, he thinks he might be closer to it than he has ever been before.

 

* * *

 

“You are bringing all these photos to District 4?” Liam asks in amusement as he flips through a massive album of pictures of Zayn's two girls.

“Do you know how many pictures of Finn I have been mailed over the years?” Zayn asks. “A ridiculous amount. Louis owes me. He will now be forced to coo over photos of my adorable children long after he has become bored of it.”

He and Liam are out walking Liam's dog. They had dropped Waliyha off at pre-school and Zayn is pushing Trisha in her little stroller along with them in order to allow Julie a little lie in.

“You bringing a date to the wedding?” Zayn asks casually. Julie had already relayed the rumours to him, but he wants to verify them himself.

Liam blushes. “Uh, yeah sort of.”

“Who is it?” Zayn asks innocently.

Liam glares at him. “Someone already told you, didn't they?”

“Yeah,” Zayn admits. “Sophia then? When did that start?”

Liam shrugged. “I don't know. Like a few months ago. I didn't really want to say anything in case it didn't turn into something. It's just, I don't know. She's easy to talk to, you know? I feel good when I'm with her. So I figured I might as well give it a whirl.”

“Your boss, though,” Zayn comments, and he wishes his voice didn't sound so irrationally annoyed. “I did not see that one coming.”

Liam frowns slightly. “I don't know. I like her. And everyone else is coupling up for the wedding; I didn't think it would be a big deal if I took her. Do you think it's too soon?”

Zayn cleared his throat. “No. I. No. I'm happy for you. Sophia seems really nice.”

Liam's shoulders relax. “Thanks. Can you believe they're getting married? Took them long enough to get to this point.”

Zayn smiles. “Yeah. But they're soulmates, you know? They were always going to end up together.”

Liam meets his eyes over the stroller and they stare at each other for a moment too long. “Yeah,” Liam finally says, as nearby shouting children interrupt the silence. “They are meant to be. You can't fight that.”

 

* * *

 

It's years before Julie admits it to him. Their children are already pre-teens and this seems like something they should have addressed a long time ago.

“I always thought I was bit of an escape for you,” she tells him quietly over her morning cup of coffee. “A way for you to make sense of yourself. But I loved you so much I decided that I didn't really care.”

He's not really sure what to say, but he does know that he wants to contradict every word that is coming out of her mouth. Wants her to know that she is everything.

“Maybe a little,” he allows, because he can't really deny the whole thing. “At the beginning. But I love you so much. You have honestly been the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. And you've given me two beautiful children and this amazing life together and...” He trails off. “You are everything. You deserve everything. You should never have to settle for anything less.”

He loves her. She didn't fix him and his life didn't get magically better after they married but he still loves her. There are other things he can't voice, and he can't quite shake the feeling that she really did settle for less than she deserved from him. She smiles at him over her coffee though, face bright and open, and he decides there are some truths that don't need to be said.

 

* * *

 

Liam is quiet over their meal at the pub, and Zayn knows what he's going to say before he says it.

“I'm so sorry, Li,” he says quietly. Acknowledging it so Liam won't have to.

“Should have expected it,” Liam runs a hand through his graying hair. “We're too old and everyone told me my fertility chances were low to begin with.”

Zayn stares down at his meal, stomach churning. Liam and Sophia are two of the best people he knows. They didn't deserve another miscarriage, another lost baby.

“She just really wants kids-” Liam's voice breaks and he shoves his fork in his mouth instead of trying to continue.

Zayn eyes Liam's cup wearily. He doesn't think Liam has started drinking again. He had been good for years now, but moments like these are always the riskiest.

“I really can't talk about this,” Liam says, his voice trembling. “I can't.”

“Okay,” Zayn nods.

“Want to hear something funny,” Liam asks, voice shaky and face pale. His eyes seem slightly manic as he stares at Liam with a confusing amount of glee. “I used to have a bit of a crush on you. Years ago. That's why I came to this district. I thought you could make me better. Bit of a joke isn't it? How the two of us are just always trying to find other people to fix us, and it only ever makes things worse.”

“Funny,” Zayn says faintly. He wonders if he should take a whiff of Liam's drink. He's probably drunk. That's probably all this is.

“Never would have worked anyway,” Liam laughs. “We're both too much of a mess.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, staring at his plate. “Never would have worked.”

He grabs his fork. They both start eating.

 

* * *

 

Zayn Malik never leaves District 6. He never returns to the military transportation industry, and he never so much as touches another hovercraft. Instead he spends his life teaching children and lives out his old age with his beautiful wife, two daughters, six grand children, and fourteen great-grandchildren.

Liam Payne never has children, and he never returns to District 13. He and Sophia do foster a number of orphaned and troubled children over the years, who they love as if they were their own. In their later years, they open a family restaurant that becomes a staple of the District 6 community, and they remain lifelong friends with the Maliks.

Zayn Malik and Liam Payne never quite manage to fix themselves. But they are, for the most part, happy.

 

**Harry Styles, District 4**

 

_Dear Ms. Katniss Everdeen,_

_What do people write when sorry is not enough? It seems so pointless to even write sorry. That's probably why Lou thinks this is stupid. I know he thinks I'm just tormenting myself for no reason, even though he would never say that to my face. But Mr. Reggie (that's my therapist) says writing letters to the people I feel I've harmed is good for me. I can't actually send any of them of course, because I'm dead. It's a bit weird to be dead. I'm not very good at it. All of District 4 knows who I am, they just keep their mouths shut because they're good people._

_I've listened to stories about your sister. I think it's important to know more about the lives I took. Mr. Reggie says that's bad though, that I'm just hurting myself. She sounded like a very beautiful, wonderful person. I guess you would have to be pretty amazing to go risk your life to save Capitol children. I heard she wanted to be a doctor. I want to be a doctor as well. I'm sorry I took that dream away from her._

_I'm very sorry. Still feels stupid to say. I'm burning this letter now._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Styles_

 

 

* * *

 

He's gotten better since Finn was born. At first, he would still have days, weeks even, where he would feel paralyzed with grief and fear. He would hide in the dark and burrow under the covers and only Louis' soft hands on his back or soothing words in his ear could even begin to rouse him from the dark place.

Harry needs Louis always, in a way that verges on pathetic even for him. He feels anxious when Louis isn't close by, when he can't reach out and grab his hand. He is constantly afraid that Louis will get sick of him, will tell him to go away, but the need to be close always outweighs the fear.

Louis, for his part, goes into his own dark moods. He doesn't particularly like to talk when he is in a mood. Instead he leaves Harry inside, peering anxiously out the back window so as not to lose sight of Louis, and Louis paces up and down the shoreline. He throws massive rocks out into the water, and sometimes Harry thinks he hears him shouting. He doesn't ask Louis about those times. He knows they both have their demons, and they are dealing with them as best as they can.

Annie brings them both to therapy with her, because as much as Harry tries to be introspective, Annie is by far the most well adjusted out of the three of them. Reginald explains to Harry that his body has been programmed to wartime. He's been taught to be afraid ever since he was twelve years old and his name first entered the reaping. Things like that don't just go away when the world gets better, as much as Harry might like to pretend they should. Reginald calls it PTSD but that makes it sound scary, so Louis scoffs and makes fun of Reginald until Harry forgets about it.

Annie gives Harry the job of getting the nursery ready for Finn. Harry thinks Annie may actually be a genius, because decorating one little baby's room does more for him than hours of therapy had. He enlists Louis to help him paint the walls yellow, because yellow is happy. They're not very good at it, and get quite a lot of paint on the floor, and then quite a lot of paint on each other (that part was on purpose).

People from all around District 4 donate baby supplies for Annie. They're given an old crib and rocking chair, a soft quilt, and piles upon piles of baby clothes and nappies. District 4 had really loved Finnick, and now they really love his son as well.

When Harry finishes the nursery, he's not quite ready for his decorating splurge to be over, so he moves on to his and Louis' room. He paints the walls a pale blue, and he fills every nook and cranny with flowers. Louis rolls his eyes when he enters the room and feigns repetitive sneezing, but the moment Harry starts to pout, Louis is tackling him into a hug and peppering his face with kisses.

They go to sleep tangled up in each other, and surrounded by flowers. Harry doesn't like to fall asleep right away when they go to bed. He likes to remember those moments with Louis. Remember the good touches and all the moments that make his life worth living. Reginald says that's important- to note down all the times he is happy. So he will steadfastly refuse to close his tired eyes, and instead shiver happily as Louis plays with his hair and encircles them in a cocoon of blankets.

 

* * *

 

His laugh makes everything seem brighter.

Harry slips out of bed early that morning, woken by a terrible nightmare. He is so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, and he can't make his hands stop trembling no matter how many times he tells himself that it was just a dream. Eight-month-old Finn is awake though, already bouncing around in his crib, so Harry scoops him up in shaky arms and holds him tightly to his chest. He doesn't think he will cry now. Not with Finn in his arms.

“Is someone a happy baby?” Harry says, letting Finn grasp on to his thumb with one tiny little hand.

Finn makes a gurgling sound in response, shooting Harry a toothless smile while drool dribbles down his chubby chin.

He is a happy baby. He laughs and he smiles and he drools. Sadness is a brief fleeting concept for him, lasting only as long as it takes for Annie to get ready to nurse or for Harry to scoop him up.

Harry wishes his sadness could be that simple. Then again, sometimes it is. Sometimes he will make funny noises and press kisses to Finn's nose until he lets out that little gurgling baby laugh and his sadness will evaporate as quickly as it had arrived.

His laugh makes everything okay.

 

 

* * *

 

Harry is wearing brand new green scrubs, a pair of sturdy black shoes that he had personally shined that morning, and he is practically vibrating with excitement as stumbles along after Nick on his first day interning at the hospital.

He had been reluctant to leave that morning. The prospect of not being at home to feed Finn breakfast when he woke up seemed foreign and mildly horrifying. Louis had forced him out though, shoving his bag at him and booting him out the door with the promise that Finn would not begrudge him forever and grow up to hate Harry because of the one time Harry was not at home to make him pancakes. Harry is not entirely sure Louis is right. Two-year-old's hold grudges. Annie swears it was an accident but Harry is still sure that the time he tripped over Finn's toy truck and face planted on the rug was directly related to the fact that he had forgotten to put chocolate chips in Finn's pancakes that morning.

He had to leave nonetheless. He'd spent two years in District 4's doctor training program, all leading up to this moment. The beginning of his four-month placement shadowing a trained, experienced District 4 doctor. Nick claims he had been assigned to Harry purely by chance, and had most certainly not requested him. “You're so lucky,” one of his friends had whispered to him as they checked the assignment list. “I heard Dr. Grimshaw was on the front lines during the District 4 air raids! Saving lives during the rebellion!”

“You don't say,” Harry had mumbled.

He is nervous now, although he has known Nick for years. Harry is not used to not having Louis or Annie with him. Even during his schooling, Louis and Finn walked him to class on most days, waiting and playing in the park outside until he got off to join them for lunch. He feels alone now, without the knowledge that Louis is just down the street.

He tries to focus on his feet as he continues to shadow Nick from room to room. Nick walks fast and Harry is uncoordinated, although at least Nick had been kind enough not to comment on the three times Harry had walked into a door so far that morning.

“Styles,” Nick sighs and finally slows to a stop in front of him (Harry most certainly does not almost walk straight into him immediately after). “Calm down. I'm pretty sure I can hear the sweat dripping off your face.”

Harry pouts. “You can't hear sweat. And I just want to do a good job.”

“I think you're forgetting that I already know you to be a good doctor. I've worked with you before. And you'll only be better now after formal training. Stop over thinking this before you accidentally walk into something that breaks your nose.”

“I'm not over thinking this,” Harry protests, straightening his back and trying not to blush.

Nick raises an eyebrow at him.

Harry narrows his eyes. “I'm a competent, well trained adult. I've wanted to do this for years, and I've worked hard to get myself in this position. So I'm going to be awesome at it. Even if I do walk into a few doors.”

Nick smirks. “That's more like it, Styles. Now grab a mask and get ready to wash up. We have an appendix to remove.”

Harry grins right back. This is his life. He's a skilled adult with a burgeoning medical career. In that second, it doesn't feel like there is a single person who can knock him down.

 

* * *

 

“Finn's half birthdays are important,” Harry hisses at Louis as he tries to wrestle a stubborn Finn into his birthday outfit.

“I know they're important,” Louis says indignantly.

“Then why do you act like you don't even care?”

Louis rolls his eyes. _How dare he roll his eyes._ “I suggested that you put Finn in his cat onesie and suddenly I don't care about his half birthday?”

“His cat onesie Louis?” Harry says hysterically. “Stop being absurd. He will wear his suspenders and bow tie like a respectable toddler, right Annie?”

Annie glances up from where she is busy icing Finn's half birthday cake. “Why don't you put him in his little overall outfit?”

Harry has barely managed to gasp in horror before a new voice is interrupting his train of thought.

“You guys are honestly and truly terrible. I hate the lot of you. You not only invite me to the half birthday of a two and a half year old drooling monster, but you are now arguing about what to dress him in. I really detest you. Never forget that.”

“Johanna!” Harry beams and Finn takes use of his distraction to throw the suspenders on the ground. “I can't believe you actually came!”

“Me neither,” Johanna mutters, appraising Finn with a mixture of curiosity and abstract disgust.

“So Johanna,” Louis begins slowly, and she tenses as if expecting to be thrown a difficult, probing question. “Suspenders and bow tie, cat onesie, or his little fisherman overall outfit?”

She glares at him. “That poor baby doesn't even realize that he's being raised by three insane people.”

“My therapist says I've been making great strides, and it's rude of people to call me insane actually,” Annie says calmly.

Johanna opens and closes her mouth for a moment, looking like she is actually considering apologizing, before Annie shoots them all an actual smirk.

“Was that a joke?” Johanna asks, appalled. “Did you actually just try to mess with my head Annie Cresta?”

Harry, Louis, and Annie all giggle as Johanna stares at them. Finn begins to chew on his bow tie.

Johanna pauses. “He looks like Finnick. The baby. He's got his eyes.”

Annie smiles kindly. “I know.”

“You going to stay for a bit Johanna?” Louis asks.

“You should,” Harry adds, eyes wide. He's missed Johanna. He loves his life in District 4, but sometimes those rare pieces from home makes his eyes water and his heart leap in his chest. Johanna is one of those people who is tied so inextricably with his younger years that he can almost smell the woods of District 7 when he sees her.

“Maybe for a few days,” Johanna says.

She never leaves.

 

* * *

 

They've lived in District 4 for more than three years before Louis and Harry go any further than blow jobs. There was never any rush to go too far. Harry was happy just being close with Louis, and he only ever wanted to do what made them both happy. They had forever, after all. When you have forever you can take as much time as you want to heal and get to a mental state where you are ready to be with the person you love. And even if they never got there, Harry thinks he could be happy just with what they already had.

It finally does happen on a fairly normal night. Harry has pinned himself to Louis' front and is dramatically threatening to suck one enormous hickey right in the centre of Louis' forehead. Louis is shrieking and squirming away, slotting his fingers under Harry's armpits and tickling until Harry is forced to scramble to the other side of the bed, screaming about treachery and betrayal.

It continues fairly seamlessly from there. They both seem to understand, within the same second, that they are ready for this. That they are together, and they love each other, and this is not something that can hurt them anymore.

“Can I stay on my back?” Harry asks anxiously as they slowly lie down, kissing and stroking each others faces. “I want to see you.”

“Of course you can,” Louis mumbles, tugging his ear gently and smiling into his neck. “I want to see your face too.”

They go slowly as Louis slides Harry's pyjama pants down for him, making goosebumps erupt down his legs where the cold air meets bare flesh. He's unable to stop himself from trembling as Louis presses kisses onto his knees and down his inner thighs. It's a good trembling though. Harry is not afraid.

Time seems to move at it's own hazy pace. Harry keens and squirms around on the sheets as Louis lightly sucks on his balls and plays absentmindedly with the tip of his cock. When Louis does finally slips one lube-slick finger inside of Harry, all he can do is clutch at the sheets tightly and open his mouth soundlessly. It feels strange. He's afraid to move, and he opens one eye blearily at Louis. “Lou-”

Louis seems to instinctively know what to do. He pries one of Harry's hand out of the tight fist it had been clenched in and gently holds it in his own. “How do you feel Haz?”

Harry whimpers, squeezing Louis' hand tightly. “I have a finger in my bum.”

Both their shoulders relax, and Louis lets out a little giggle. “Yeah, you do. How is that?”

He contemplates that for a moment, before hesitantly rotating his hips and letting out a breathy little sigh at the strange feeling. “Alright, I think.”

Louis hides his smile into the crease of Harry's leg. “That's good then. I'll keep going. You tell me if it feels bad or you want to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry squeaks as Louis starts to move his finger.

Louis holds his hand the entire time, leaning down awkwardly to kiss Harry as he slips a second finger in. Harry almost stops breathing when Louis curls his fingers just right. He ends up burying his face in his pillow to muffle his loud moans and hide his flushed cheeks from Louis' watchful gaze.

“Harry?” Louis stops moving his hand and Harry finds himself embarrassingly canting his hips down, trying to get the fingers further in. He scratches at his own belly with his free hand and squirms around on the sheets, managing to lift his head out of the pillow in order to fix Louis with a reproachful stare.

“Why did you stop?”

Louis shrugs sheepishly. “Just making sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay,” Harry moans, as Louis starts twisting his fingers around again. “Are you okay? If it- Ah- ever gets too much you can tell me and we can- oh god- stop.”

Louis simply smiles. “Thanks Haz. I think I'm good. Can I add a third?”

Harry hastily nods his head, and Louis carefully squeezes a third finger in alongside the other two. It stings slightly, and Harry makes a face. Louis sucks a bruise lightly onto his inner thigh to distract him, and Harry whimpers again, throwing his arm haphazardly over his face.

He doesn't really want to have to ask Louis to go further, because it seems like a big thing to put a voice to. Part of him wants to wait for a fourth finger, wants to see how full Louis can make him feel with just his hands. But a bigger part of him just wants everything right away.

Luckily, Louis seems to understand him, because he starts fiddling with his own pyjama pants, freeing his cock from where it had been straining against the loose fabric.

Harry is already nodding frantically before Louis even gets the chance to ask him if it's okay. The tension in Louis' shoulders drops as he stares fondly at Harry's face, which is probably embarrassingly desperate. He runs one hand over Harry's cheek, leaning down and encompassing Harry in a long, slow kiss. Harry reaches up, threading his hands through Louis' soft hair as he feels the tip of Louis' cock nudge up against his rim.

“No, just wait a sec-” Harry mumbles, and Louis pulls back so fast it almost gives Harry whiplash. Before he even has a chance to blink Louis is already stroking his hair and no doubt preparing to reassure him that they could wait as long as he needed.

“No,” Harry corrects, feeling himself begin to blush. “I just meant can I go, like, on top? Just so I can, um, do it myself? I don't know if that makes sense, I'm sorry I-”

A tiny smile starts to form over Louis' face. “You want to, um, ride me?”

Harry's face begins to feel, if possible, even hotter. “Well I wasn't going to phrase it like that, you dick.”

“Look at you sweet talking me with your cutesy pet names,” Louis smirks at him and Harry whacks him with a pillow. “You can though. I mean, you can do that. I'm okay with that.”

Harry nods resolutely to himself and readjusts their positioning so that he's half sprawled over Louis' lap. Louis' dick still looks somewhat intimidating so he grabs the lube and smears some more over it. And then a little bit more. And a little more. _Bad idea._ There is now a pool of lube forming on the sheets under them as it trickles down Louis' leg. “Oops.”

Louis just keeps smiling at him fondly, and Harry doesn't know what to do with his limbs at this point. They both end up laughing slightly hysterically as Harry attempts to lower himself onto Louis and manages to completely miss on his first four tries.

When he does finally get it, he sinks down too fast and he thinks his brain momentarily turns off in shock. His hips feel strange and tense, his thigh muscles burn already, and he feels painfully stretched out around Louis. It hurts but it doesn't, and he kind of wants to cry but he thinks Louis would take that the wrong way. He stares at the wall behind Louis for several long moments, mouth half open and chest heaving.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks anxiously, hands already coming up to stroke over Harry's face. “Does it hurt? Oh no, it hurts doesn't it? Do you want to stop? We can stop. Harry?”

“Doesn't hurt,” Harry pats at Louis' head reassuringly, still feeling drawn tight. “Just feels weird.” Tentatively, he raises himself up and drops back down again. He emits an embarrassingly loud squeal as he feels Louis nudge even deeper inside of him.

Louis still looks scared, so Harry leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. “I'm okay,” he says shakily. “I love you.”

Louis rests his hands gently over Harry's hips. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

It's all a bit too much, and Harry does start to cry at some point, but he doesn't think Louis will take it the wrong way this time. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

 

* * *

 

They lie tangled up in each other afterwards. Harry can still feel Louis inside of him, thinks he won't stop feeling it for days, and just the thought of it makes him squirm around in their sheets.

“How are you feeling?” Louis asks him.

“Very good, thank you,” Harry smiles into Louis' neck. “How are you feeling?”

“Very good, thank you,” Louis echoes back with a smile in his voice.

“So after some discussions and reassessments you wouldn't mind doing it again?” Harry asks, hoping his voice doesn't betray how red he's getting. Their deal is that they always discuss and reassess before they try something again. Giving a blow job once doesn't mean it's something either of them will always be comfortable doing. Having sex this one time won't mean either of them should be expected to always be okay with it in the future. It's something their therapist had recommended. Once or twice or a thousand times does not mean they still won't have a flashback and panic. Once does not mean consent in the future. Always discuss and reassess.

“You want to go again already?” Louis teases, sliding his hands down Harry's side. “What have I started?”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles. “Do you feel good? I love you. I want you to be okay always.”

“I feel good,” Louis answers, one hand working his way down Harry's backside as he looks at Harry questioningly.

Harry nods, and then promptly almost swallows his own tongue as he feels one of Louis' fingers dip back inside him. He gasps and squirms around, hiding his hot face in Louis' chest and panting loudly into his shirt. The swirling finger also serves as a reminder about the come inside him, and he feels a bit faint with all of it.

Louis withdraws his hand, wiping it on the sheets and running it through Harry's hair soothingly. “Sorry, just curious.”

Harry wants to glare at him reproachfully and maybe sulk a bit, but all that comes out is, “I love you.”

He feels Louis' arms relax around him for a moment before pulling him in even tighter. “You're ridiculous.”

Harry doesn't answer. He already feels his tired eyes easing shut on him.

“I didn't even want to go talk to you that first time,” Louis laughs suddenly, and Harry remains sleepy and pliant, happy just to let him talk. “Johanna made me. And I didn't want to be your friend after then either. Didn't want to deal with some sad kid. Didn't want to have to watch you suffer. Can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn't listened to Johanna? If I hadn't became your friend? Can you imagine how much emptier my life would be?”

“You would have been okay,” Harry argues.

Louis snorts. “Not even. The best parts of me are all because of you, Haz.”

“Then thank goodness,” Harry says slowly, nestling, if possible, even closer into Louis's side. “Thank goodness you came up to me, recommended the profiteroles, and made a cannibalism joke.”

“I sure did have a way with the boys, didn't I?” Louis smiles and kisses his temple.

“Nah,” Harry says, smiling sleepily. “Just with me.”

 

* * *

 

_Dear Keri,_

_It's strange writing a letter to you. It feels kind of like I should be starting it with “Hey, so do you remember me?” Because it's been so long. It's like you existed in an entirely different lifetime for me. But I've never forgotten about you, you don't have to worry about that. Years might pass, but there's certain people you can just never forget._

_I was really mad at you for a long time. Did you know that? Might seem strange, because you're not supposed to be mad at people who die. Especially not people who die saving you. But I was furious. I didn't really want you to save me, not back then. You just gave up your life like it was nothing and left me alone. Left me to just live with your sacrifice. I really really hated you for that. Why would you do that, Ker? Why would you choose my life over yours? That's a pretty stupid decision._

_I wouldn't write to you to say I'm mad though. There's no point to that, and I'm not actually mad anymore anyway. I'm writing to you so I can say thank you. It took me about six years...or seven? I don't know anymore. It took me a long time, but I think I'm finally glad you saved my life. I still don't know why you did it, but thank you. Because you saving me meant that I got to meet Louis, who is the greatest human ever. It meant that I got to watch Finn being born. It means so much, because every day that I wake up and feel happy is because of you. And everyday that I wake up sad is because of you as well, but I think I'm okay with that. Thank you for saving me, Ker. I love you very much._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Styles_

 

_* * *_

 

There is no point in time where Finn does not know about his father. Louis and Annie shower him with stories about Finnick, and in that sense he always has a vague idea about what happened in the Games and the rebellion. About how his father died fighting for a better world for his son.

On a Saturday morning in late September he takes Finn for a walk on the beach. Annie and Louis both have the tendency to sleep in on mornings like this. Finn is a hyperactive early riser though, and Harry is too programmed from early shifts at the hospital to ever sleep in past eight anymore.

At seven years old, Finn is already more fish than human. It's not freezing outside, but the wind is brisk, and Harry is bundled up in an old maternity sweater of Annie's that makes Louis laugh every single time he wears it. Harry had made Finn put on a jacket before they left, but within minutes of reaching the beach, Finn is already kicking off his boots and sliding out of his clothes, before sprinting into the waves, toes curling into the sand and hair dripping with salt spray.

“You're going to get pneumonia!” Harry yells halfheartedly. “Your mother is going to kill me.”

Finn turns and grins at him, grey eyes dancing. “It's really warm though! You should come in, Uncle Harry!”

“Not a chance,” Harry scoffs, already busy anxiously pulling a big blanket out of his backpack. When Finn runs out of the water, shivering as usual, Harry will be ready.

“Hey, Uncle Harry?” Finn's voice is more uncertain than Harry ever hears it. He looks very small suddenly, with his skinny frame covered in goosebumps as he stands knee deep in the cold water. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“My friend Joey brought a book of his dad's to school yesterday. It was about all that stuff that you and Uncle Lou and Mommy told me about. But there were pictures and stuff. And stories. From the, uh, the Hunger Games.”

Harry swallowed convulsively. He instinctively wants to tell Finn that he shouldn't have looked at that. That he will call Joey's mother himself and get him in trouble. They have an open relationship with Finn though. A promise to each other and themselves that they will never lie to him about the past. Keep it age appropriate yes, but never lie.”

“It was pretty horrible.” Harry coughs and wipes at his nose, feeling suddenly nervous under Finn's frank stare. “I wish you didn't have to hear or read about it.”

“How do you just, keep going, after something like that? How is life ever okay?” Harry smiles, tears already building up in the corners of his eyes. Finn is unfairly old for his age, asking questions that remind Harry of something he might have asked Louis a lifetime ago.

“I don't know really,” Harry answers honestly. He's still almost as clueless on that as he had been at sixteen. “I think you just keep going. You get up every morning and you find one little thing in your day that makes it worth living. And then one day, maybe years later, you get up and you look back at every day you've made yourself live, and you are so grateful you got to live them. And getting up and finding one thing to live for isn't hard anymore, because you have a billion things to live for.”

He wonders if his answer was maybe a bit too honest for a seven year old, but before he can contemplate that too closely Finn is darting out of the water and jumping into Harry's arms, completely soaking the front of Harry's sweater in the process. Hastily, Harry wraps the two of them up in the blanket, running his hands over Finn's trembling shoulders. “You okay, kiddo?”

Finn sniffs into his neck and then looks up at him with watery eyes. “I'm just very happy you're alive, Uncle Harry,” he pauses, petting at Harry's curls with one small hand. “Can I be one of the billion things you have to live for?”

Harry smiles through his own tears. “You're already five hundred million of them.”

“Are you happy here, Uncle Harry?”

“Yes.”

 

**Louis Tomlinson, District 4**

 

“Do you still feel like he is too good for you?”

Louis is in his bi-weekly therapy session, and Reginald is asking him questions as if he actually expects the answers to have changed.

“Have you even met Harry?” Louis says sarcastically. “He's pretty clearly too good for me.”

“Why do you think you feel that way?”

Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. Harry told him that mocking their therapist is counterproductive. “He's smart, and talented. He works his butt off everyday at the hospital. He cooks our family dinner almost every night. He smiles a lot. He barely has nightmares anymore. And I'm sure he makes a lot more progress than I do in therapy as well, but I'll let you be the judge of that one.”

“Everyone has different problems too overcome. No two people can heal in the same way.”

“Look,” Louis sighs, “This isn't about me hating myself-”

Reginald actually snorts slightly. He's the worst therapist ever.

“I don't think I'm a monster and I don't think Harry is a perfect angel,” Louis sighs. “I'm just saying, outside our past, he's found a way to be a healthy, functioning member of society. And I'm not that. I'm not really anything outside of being a mentally traumatized victor.”

“I would argue that you're a father to your best friend's son, a friend to his widow, and a supportive and loving fixture in your boyfriend's life.” Reginald is staring at him as if he is just daring Louis to try to contradict him.

Louis looks away.

 

* * *

 

Louis had visited District 6 several times a year during the eight years of Finn's life. He returned home for his mother's wedding, the birth of his youngest siblings, his sister's wedding (she was much too young, he most certainly did not approve), the birth of his nephew, and a handful of times in between. Louis always went alone and convinced Harry to stay in District 4 to watch over Finn and Annie while he was gone.

Zayn's wedding is the first time he agrees to bring Harry back with him. Walking the streets of his old home with Harry at his side is like a breath of fresh air. Where all he sees are bloodstains and pain, Harry sees old friends. When Louis wants to curl up in a ball, overwhelmed with the memories, Harry is busy asking his mother for baby pictures of Louis. It feels like a new beginning.

Louis gets to be Zayn's best man at the wedding. Zayn snootily claims he was forced to do it because Louis is his oldest friend, even though Niall or Liam would have clearly been better choices. Louis thinks that's bullshit because Niall and Liam were both bawling throughout the entire ceremony, and as a best man you need to be dignified. You need to keep it together. Louis is completely in control of his emotions the entire time.

Well, maybe he cries a little.

 

* * *

 

Every day brings a new horror to remember. A new memory to overcome.

The fact that it takes Harry nine years to ask him is shocking in itself. Louis feels like he's been waiting for the question for most of his life.

It's 3 in the morning, because the tragedies of the past don't confine themselves to daylight's hours, and Harry is shaking him awake. “Louis. Lou.”

“Nightmare?” Louis mumbles, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.

“Why did we leave the Capitol?” Harry's eyes are wide and gleaming, even in the dark. His hair is sticking up in three directions and he's chewing on his lip.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. He and Harry don't lie anymore. That's their thing. They don't lie to Finn and they don't lie to Annie and they certainly don't lie to each other. When someone asks a question, they answer.

“Snow brought me in to question me about my sister,” he clears his throat, which has gone dry and scratchy. The images are blurry in his mind, but he can remember the fear. He never forgets the fear. “He knew about us, and he, he threatened you.”

Harry draws his arms around his knees and hesitantly nudges Louis' hand with his big toe. “Threatened to do what to me?”

“Sell you off to some men. To...you know.” Louis feels like he can't breathe. There is something physically constricting his airway.

Harry's arms are suddenly around him. “It's okay. Thank you. I love you.”

They pull on their boots and jackets and head down to the beach, lying in the sand, hand in hand, until the sun starts to rise and Louis can breathe again. The sun rise feels like proof in that moment. He needed to know that the sun could still rise, even in the ashes of their own broken lives. And it can. And it does.

 

* * *

 

Finn is ten and waving enthusiastically from the docks as Louis shows off and zooms the boat around in circles. “Very professional, Tomlinson,” his partner, Gena, smirks at him from the seat beside him. “You really represent the very best of the Coast Guard.”

Louis smirks at her. “You know it babe.”

Being a part of District 4's Coast Guard is one of the better things that have ever happened to Louis. Every day is eventful, from idiotic teenagers who “can totally swim and boat drunk, nothing could possibly go wrong” to experienced fishermen who “are completely capable of being out in storms, how dare you insult their intelligence.”

Finn thinks he's officially the coolest person ever. “I save lives,” Harry argues over supper, “I have the coolest job ever.”

Finn fixes him with an unimpressed stare. “But Uncle Lou saves lives _and_ gets to drive a boat.”

Harry laughs. “Can't argue with that. You're right. Uncle Lou is pretty cool.”

Louis fist pumps the air dramatically. “Finally, I have earned the approval of the perpetually unimpressed Finn Odair and Harry Styles. My life is complete.”

They lob meatballs at his head.

 

* * *

 

Finn is thirteen and Louis is probably going to propose this time. Maybe.

“Just do it,” Finn complains. “Just be like, hey Harry, you've been getting this dick for like fourteen years- want to make it officia-”

“Inappropriate!” Louis shouts, covering his own ears. “Who taught you to talk like that?”

Finn rolls his eyes, “You did Uncle Lou.”

“What's even the point in this?” Louis asks for the hundredth time. “We're already pretty much married. We love each other. This is stupid. He'll probably laugh at me.”

“That's such a lie,” Finn says. What a teenager. Louis decides he hates teenagers. “This is the same Harry that spent two months planning my thirteenth birthday party, right? Or the Harry that cries over all your Christmas presents to him because 'they're just so thoughtful,' or-”

“I hate teenagers.”

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“I see, so District 4 isn't on your no fly list then, young lady? It's only your mother and sisters and darling baby brother out in District 6 that you refuse to gift with a visit-”

“Hello mother,” Lottie says wearily. “It's your oldest son's wedding, is now really the time to tell me off for being a terrible daughter?”

Louis snickers from behind them. “I think it's always the time for that. Go ahead mother. You have my full permission.”

Lottie glares at him. “Hello to you too, brother.”

Their mother is already on a new topic. “When should I be expecting an invite to your wedding in District 2?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Lottie scoffs. “Niall would _never_ inflict that on me.”

Finn chooses that moment to come over and say hi to his Gramma, which likely saves Lottie from a severe talk about the virtues of marriage and commitment. Louis' mother and sisters take one moment to look at Finn before they are all cooing.

“You are so handsome, darling,” Louis' mom says, reaching forward to pull Finn into what looks like a suffocating hug. “Absolutely breathtaking, really. You must have the ladies here all over you.”

Finn blushes. He is fifteen and a great deal more sheltered and young than Finnick had ever been allowed to be, meaning that he had never developed a defensive egotistical shell when his looks were brought up. “Stop it, Gramma. I'm not really.”

“I hear this handsome young man is the Best Man?” His mother says, patting Finn's head some more.

Finn immediately stands up straighter, beaming. “I'm Uncle Louis' Best Man. They both wanted me, but Louis says Harry is really easy to guilt trip into agreeing to things.” Finn laughs. “So now Mom is Harry's Best Man. It's funny because she's a girl. But Lou and Harry say they want our whole family to get to be a part of the wedding.”

“That's very nice dear,” His mother smiles fondly.

Lottie seizes her chance to escape into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

By the time they are ready to say their vows, Harry is already crying. It's a bit of an embarrassment in Louis' opinion. He grabs onto Louis' hands and Louis steadfastly ignores his own wet cheeks. He is definitely not crying. Louis is much too manly for that.

“The first year I knew you,” Harry halts already, rubbing at his eyes, and Louis is not entirely sure he can listen to this. It's probably not too late to grab Harry and run. “Things were not great. I was not great. But this one day, you took me to a flower garden and you-” Harry stops again to take a deep, steadying breath. “I don't know if you remember, but you told me that no matter what terrible things were happening to me, I should always just pretend I was sitting in the middle of thousands of flowers with you.”

Louis remembers every second of it. He remembers hot chocolate and red velvet cupcakes and lying in damp grass looking at flowers. He remembers beepers going off and Harry crying and his own heart sinking in his chest.

“You were always my safe place,” Harry says. “Whether you were there in real life or whether I had to just retreat into my own mind to find you. For years and years you have been the person I ran to when I couldn't be alone with the bad stuff. You have been the thing in my life that keeps me breathing and you have been the world where I am a safe and you have been the place where I learned how to be strong. I'm so glad I get to keep you forever, because I know nothing bad can ever happen to me as long as I can sit next to you in the middle of a thousand flowers. I love you so much, Lou.”

This is just unfair really. Because he can see his mother sobbing in the audience and Finn is crying into his hands behind them while Annie wipes messily at both their tears with tissue and Zayn and Niall and Liam are hugging and sniffing into each others' shoulders. This is unfair, because Louis is absolutely bawling, and how on earth is he supposed to manage to say something now?

Louis spends at least a minute just staring at Harry and trying to catch his breath before he actually manages to speak himself. “I'm going to continue the trend of us quoting each other. I wouldn't have planned this if I knew what Harry was going to say, but I guess we both just say a lot of wise, quotable things.”

The guests all chuckle.

“Once upon a time, many years ago, you were overwhelmed by my good looks and could not stop yourself from trying to snog my face off.”

“Hey,” Harry protests weakly. Finn snorts loudly from behind them.

“But after, when I was being an ass, you told me something really smart.” Louis took a deep breath. It's a good thing he opened with several jokes and semi-insults or else he would already be crying again. “You told me that none of us were going to get a happy ending handed to us. And that if we wanted something good, we would have to fight for it.” Louis wipes his nose sloppily. “I don't think you ever completely believed we would get a happy ending. And I suppose in a way we didn't, because if we had gotten it, there would be a lot more people alive and here with us today. But this is it, Haz. This is what we fought for. Because I could never even imagine a future for myself that you were not a part of, and now I'll never have to.” He clears his throat. “And I'm going to have to apologize to our guest for how nauseatingly cheesy this sounds, but you're my happily ever after, Harry Styles.”

There is more talking and somewhere in there Louis thinks he and Harry are officially married. He doesn't hear that part though. He's far too busy exchanging snotty, tearful kisses with his favourite person.

When they break apart from each other, Louis knows that this was always about so much more than marrying the love of his life. This is about getting every person he had ever loved together. This is about recognizing that it had taken years, but each and every one of them had found ways to heal.

It is about Zayn pecking his wife on the cheek and bouncing his daughter on his hip, and Niall and Lottie making faces at each other, and Gemma and Anne exchanging hugs, and Liam and Sophia blatantly checking each other out. It is about his mother crying and pinching every cheek she could get a hold of, and Daisy and Phoebe showing off their boyfriends, and Fizzy looking frazzled and exhausted by her group of rambunctious children, and Johanna attempting to hide her emotions and completely failing. It is about Annie standing strong and proud next to the son she had raised, even when almost every person in her life had not believed she could do it. And it is about Finn beaming at them, the spitting image of his father, and the best thing he or Harry had ever managed to do with their lives.

He had done it. _They_ had done it.

 

* * *

 

“Do you still feel like he's too good for you?”

Louis has downgraded to weekly therapy sessions, which means he only had to talk to Reginald half as much as he used to. It's a nice change.

“Obviously.” Louis rolls his eyes. “He's gorgeous and awesome. I lucked out.”

Reginald smiles slightly. “And how do you think Harry did?”

“Well I'm pretty awesome too. But I'm not going to lie, he married down. I'm just hoping no one ever tells him.”

Reggie claps him on the back. “You're going to be alright, Louis.”

Louis snorts. “Obviously. How are you even a real therapist? You're completely useless.”

Reggie lets out a long-suffering sigh.

 

* * *

 

Finn is eighteen and he is leaving them.

He was always so very, very smart. Finn was a living demonstration of everything Finnick could have been had the circumstances of his life played out differently. That past April, he had received his official acceptance letter to attend the Capitol's National Science Academy. None of them were surprised.

Annie is busy going through each and every item on the packing checklist for the hundredth time, as Finn promises her repeatedly that he has packed everything.

“I love you, Mom,” he reassures her again. “I'll call you as soon as I get in. Don't worry.”

“I know,” Annie says with a sigh. “But my baby is going off on his own for the first time. I can't not worry.”

None of them voice what is not being said. That he is not just going off on his own, but he is going to a place that Annie would only ever associate with the death of her husband.

“I love you, Mom,” Finn repeats. “I'll call you so much. Like ten times a day. You'll talk to me more than you do now! You'll probably get sick of me.”

“I could never,” Annie scoffs.

“What about us then?” Louis demands. He and Harry are both staring at him with their arms sternly crossed. “Do we not get a goodbye and a promise for hundreds of phone calls?”

“Of course you do,” Finn rolls his eyes. “I love you both. You know that.”

Louis and Harry both nod reluctantly. “Yeah, we do.”

“On the plus side, you're free from worrying about me,” Finn jokes, although he's not doing a very good job at pretending to be casual. The kid is a bad liar. “You must be a bit tired of worrying about me all the time. I kind of ruined your plans, didn't I? You probably wanted to get married and have kids of your own, and instead you were saddled with me for eighteen years.” He glances down at his feet. “Did I make it so you couldn't have that? So you couldn't have kids?”

Harry and Louis stare at him, mouths open wide, and then glance at each other in confusion. “But you are our kid,” Harry says slowly, brow crinkled.

“Why would we need more?” Louis adds. “We got the best on our first try. And the conception required zero effort on our part, which was a bonus. Annie did all the hard work.”

“Thanks guys,” Annie says sarcastically, while Finn smiles at them and runs a hand through his hair.

“I know,” he mutters. “I guess I just wanted to make sure. Obviously I know you're not my father, but you are my parents. You've always been my parents. Thank you for everything.”

Last hugs are exchanged, and Annie anxiously tries to smooth out Finn's hair, and then suddenly he's truly leaving. He's hitching his suitcase up into the train waving one last time.

Their child is leaving them on a train to the Capitol, and Louis knows that should be terrifying, and yet no one cries. The era of fearing for their children is over.

“He'll be okay,” Louis says, as he reaches for Harry's hand.

Annie smiles at both of them. “We all will be.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT IT'S FOR REAL DONE.
> 
> To every single person who has left kudos or even just read this, thank you so much for sticking it out with me (even when the updates were few and far between). And to the people who have left comments or messaged me on tumblr you can't even imagine how excited I got for every message. I can pretty much guarantee that I know all your usernames and urls and if I ever spot something any of you have written I will be sure to check it out. This is the longest thing I have ever successfully completed, and every bit of support has been amazing. Any final comments would be much appreciated, and if not, than thank you for making it to the end with me :) (also apologies for how unnecessarily sappy this is, I am possibly overly emotional/excited about being finished)
> 
> And to [define-lying/Morgan ](http://define-lying.tumblr.com//) who edited the entire second half of this fic with me...well you already know you're the best so I'm not sure how much more I should stroke you ego :P ...JK THANK YOU SO MUCH I am so lucky to have met you and I can't believe the amount of effort and time you managed to put aside to make my writing readable. Still not sure how I managed to con you into this and then subsequently trick you into thinking it was fun...but thank you so much and in case you didn't realize, I am now subjecting you to be my friend and editing slave FOREVER *evil laugh* :) 
> 
> If any of you would be interested in chatting with me or keeping up to date on anything I might write in the future or if you just want to yell at me for how depressing most of this story was than you can come see me on [ my tumblr ](http://haroldsmodellegs.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> THANKS FOR READING :) :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Taming Demons (And Other Impossible Jobs)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570386) by [SeptemberEndings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberEndings/pseuds/SeptemberEndings)
  * [Who Painted the Moon Black 谁漆黑了月](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245893) by [swansecrets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swansecrets/pseuds/swansecrets)




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